


Ribbon of Darkness

by Jwink85



Category: South Park
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Betrayal, Devotion, Erotica, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff, Love, M/M, Master & Servant, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Obedience, Romance, Sacrifice, servitude
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-10-10 10:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 39,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17423780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jwink85/pseuds/Jwink85
Summary: Kyle has to learn the hard way that love very often comes with a price, finding himself trapped in a castle filled with secrets and overseen by a mysterious master.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this starts out slow, you guys. I'm just getting a feel for the lay of the land, lol. I've always wanted to write an SP fanfic w/ fairy tale elements so, here we go, I guess. xD I have no idea if I'll be successful, but i'll try at the very least. 
> 
> Any feedback is appreciated, though; don't be shy! :D

Kyle couldn't really remember a time when he wasn't in love with his stepbrother, or at the very least, hopelessly infatuated with him.

When he really stopped to think about it, not that he usually allowed himself such a luxury, he supposed that he'd fallen in love with Craig Tucker nearly the moment he came to live with the Broflovskis; one unforgiving winter night several years before.

The Tucker family had long lived on the outskirts of a large, dark forest, beyond the protective barrier of the high walls of a prosperous village, and no matter what anyone did or said, they never saw reason. They didn't want to live within the confines of the walls or the protection of the village proper, because to live behind them was akin to agreeing to abide by the laws of society. The patriarch of the Tucker clan had sworn several years ago, before the gods and man, that he would never answer to anyone but himself so long as there was breath in his body. As such, his family lived in a small thatched hut outside the boundaries of civilization for years, and for awhile all was well. They had their crops, their few animals (pigs and sheep, mostly), each other; in short, they were content.

Until the night the raiders came, and while the village could withstand the barrage of arrows and fire brought against them, the Tuckers found themselves at a severe disadvantage; caught by surprise as they slept in their beds. Master Tucker died in his sleep, his head crushed like a blood orange while his wife and young daughter were carried off, most likely to be raped or sold into sexual servitude; either way, they were never heard from again. His son, on the other hand, a grey eyed boy of ten managed to escape with little more than a few burns and a mind filled with the horrors of death and agony; the only home he'd ever known torched to the ground.

The boy had learned of agonies that most adults wouldn't be able to handle, so when he was found wandering the forest several days later, practically unresponsive due to the ravages of hunger and exposure, he could barely speak. Fortunately for him, he was found by a kindly woodsman, one Master Gerald of the Broflovski clan, and he was promptly carried home to the bosom of his full-figured wife, who already had a son of the same age, as well as a babe in arms; both of whom stared at the hapless lad with wide, questioning eyes.

"Found him wandering the meadow, scrounging for berries," Gerald whispered to his wife sadly, the conversation within earshot of their son, a scarlet haired child called Kyle. "He can't tell me what's become of his family but I have reason to believe -"

"Oh, Gerald, can this be the Tucker child? Oh, those poor people. I've heard their house is nothing but ashes by now. I'd heard rumors that he'd been seen wandering aimlessly," Sheila sighed, glancing at the waif-like urchin standing before the hearth, slim, pale hands stretched toward a roaring fire. She quickly took in the state of his clothing and the gauntness of his face and made a decision.

"Child," she called, managing to smooth down the sharp edges of her voice; speaking to the boy the same way she'd try to gentle a skittish animal. "Pray tell me, please; what is your name? What are we to call you?"

The boy merely stared at her with large, fathomless eyes; murky and muddled with secret, unspoken horrors. Wordlessly, he turned back to the fire, his face inscrutable as he watched the jumping flames. Behind him, Gerald and Sheila could only look on helplessly, both of them wanting to help but not sure how to do so.

It was at that moment that Kyle made a decision as well, to approach this stranger with curiosity and the forwardness of a child. Approaching, he stood beside the unfortunate boy and watched him with bright green eyes.

"Are you hungry? Mother made stew," he said, gesturing to the bubbling cauldron before them. "It's really good."

The boy could only shake his head, his mouth set in a straight line. Kyle frowned.

"Can't you speak? Why don't you say anything?"

"Kyle, you're being rude," his mother chastised him. "You don't speak to a guest like that."

"He isn't a guest," Kyle replied, raising an eyebrow. "Father found him in the forest. He's a wild boy, isn't he?"

This finally garnered a reaction from the boy, and he turned on Kyle savagely.

"I'm not a wild boy! You don't even know what you're talking about!"

"Yes, I do so!" Kyle shouted back, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "You're wild and my father took pity on you!"

"Kyle, that's enough!" Gerald shouted, coming forward. "Apologize to him, right now!"

"I won't!" Kyle yelled, defiantly. "How can I apologize to someone when I don't even know their name?"

"You don't deserve to know my name," the boy snarled. "It's too good for you."

That's when Kyle reared back and punched the boy across the face, forging a lifelong bond predicated on slight animosity and boyhood aggression. He never could've known in that instant that his feelings would quickly turn to admiration and then, far in the future, love.

As it stood, Gerald had to come forward and pull the two scrapping boys apart, realizing very quickly that he was going to have to keep an eye on the two of them.

"This won't do," he muttered, pushing Kyle away while keeping a firm hand on the boy without a name. Turning to the seething lad, he sighed heavily.

"We want to help you, son, but we can't do that if you aren't willing to bend; at least a little. At the very least, tell us your name."

"You can call him Beast," Kyle chimed in, staring daggers at the boy. "He certainly acts like one."

"Kyle," his mother said, a warning tone in her voice that Kyle knew not to play around with. Stiffening up, he gave her his full attention; eyes wide and suddenly full of apology. "We did not raise you to be unkind to those in need of help. You shame yourself."

Just like a mother, Sheila knew where to wound her child to achieve the desired effect, and Kyle immediately flushed while staring down at his feet.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, toeing at the floor. "I just wanted to know his name, is all."

"He will give his name when he's ready, and not before," Sheila said, standing from her place at the oaken table and bustling over to the cupboard. Pulling out a bowl, he went to the cauldron of stew and quickly ladled out a sizeable portion for the boy; taking an extra moment to plunk a crust of bread on the bowl's edge. Going to the child, she laid a hand on his thin shoulder.

"You are among those who wish you no harm, regardless of how they've presented themselves," she added, giving Kyle a severe look; he blushed a deeper cranberry. "Come to the table, lad, and fortify yourself. You don't need to give us any information before you want to. Is that fair?"

The boy stared hungrily at the bowl of stew before throwing a dirty look Kyle's way, seemingly deliberating on his next course of action. Finally, it would seem hunger won out, and he was sitting at the table and wolfing down the food with wild abandon; Kyle watching with open amazement at the sight of such famished ferocity. His parents merely looked on with faces filled with amusement and concern, wanting to hope for the best while worrying for the boy's future.

"At the very least, he's out of the cold," Sheila murmured, going to the window and looking out at the first delicate snowflakes coming to dust the earth. "We shall put him to rights, sooner or later."

*******

"I shouldn't have to walk with him to school," Kyle complained one bright morning; the sun having barely crested the mountains. He was hurriedly dressing beside the fire as his mother prepared bowls of porridge, the scent of burnt cinnamon wafting through the kitchen and making it seem warmer. "Everyone's going to make fun of me."

"Nonsense," his mother scoffed, nudging him toward the table where the other child already sat, the baby, a bright-eyed tot named Ike, sitting off to the side in his highchair. "Why would anyone make fun of you for showing a new student the way?"

"Maybe because he barely talks," Kyle muttered, plunging his spoon into his bowl much harder than necessary. He glanced at the boy, who was already bolting his food; making a face. "You don't have to eat so fast," he chastised, taking a tiny bite. "It's not like it's going anywhere. You eat like the pigs in their pen."

It was while the Mistress Broflovski's back was turned that the boy, who they'd come to find out was called "Craig" (a bit of information which had to be pulled from him like a throbbing, rotten tooth out of a peasant's mouth), picked up his spoon, loaded with porridge, and flung it at Kyle, smearing it across his incredulous face.

"Why, you -" he mouthed like a fish for a moment, before filling his own spoon full. He was in the process of lifting it when his mother caught him.

"Kyle Broflovski! What do you think you're doing?!"

"He started it!" Kyle whined, pointing at Craig who was suddenly as well-behaved as an angel, staring at Kyle with feigned shock, a hand covering his mouth.

"I don't care who started it!" Sheila admonished, whisking Kyle's bowl away from him. "I'm ending it, now stand outside until Craig is ready to leave, and if you run off without him, so help me -"

"I'll stay, so quit nagging me," Kyle snapped, stalking toward the door, pointedly ignoring his mother's look of outrage. True to his word, he was waiting with crossed arms when Craig emerged sometime later, his hair and face still slightly damp from being scrubbed by Kyle's mother.

"You better not try to talk to me when we get there," Kyle sniffed, turning away and making his way up the snowy path; his hood covering his multitude of red curls. Kicking through the drifts, he listened for Craig behind him even though he wished he weren't there.

It wasn't that he wanted to be unwelcoming or mean-spirited, as his mother often accused him of being, he just didn't really understand why this strange interloper was living among them. He also didn't understand why he seemed so sullen and ungrateful about everything his parents tried to do for him. He'd barely muttered a word of thanks when his mother had made him a new set of clothes, doe-colored breeches and a heavy jerkin; a long hunter green tunic beneath. Kyle's father had even seen fit to give the boy a new pair of boots, a sturdy pair made of fine leather. Had Craig been thankful for any of it? Hardly!

It didn't help that no matter how many times Kyle tried to get to know him he was given the cold shoulder; Craig shutting him out and turning his back on him. They'd come to blows over this many a time until Kyle had given up the fight, not caring one way or another whether he ever spoke to the boy again; not wanting to admit that he was deeply curious about his history. Every day that passed without some information was a day that his interest burned brighter, though he tried to mask it with boyish hostility.

"Be kind to one another," his mother reminded him every night as she tucked him in, kissing Kyle on the forehead. "Kindness is worth its weight in gold, after all, and Craig can use as much as he can get."

"Then why won't he talk to me? I've tried to be his friend," Kyle would scowl, staring daggers at Craig in his shadowed cornered; curled up on his mound of straw. Kyle's father was in the process of making him a proper bed, but with all of his usual chores he still hadn't found the time. "He acts like I'm the nuisance, when he's -"

"Shh, that's enough, child," his mother would sigh, tucking him in tighter. "Everything in its own time. Remember that patience is a virtue."

Patience was the last thing on Kyle's mind as the two boys made the snowy trek to school, the forest surrounding them coated in ice; deep drifts obscuring the ground. On occasion a flash of red could be seen, blood-colored cardinals flitting through the crystalline trees; breaking the monotony of white, blue and grey. It was with begrudging interest that Kyle noticed Craig's eyes focused intently on the birds whenever they appeared.

"They're mean," Kyle said suddenly, pointing out a bird that had lit upon a branch. "They swoop at your head in the springtime, when we're out planting."

"You're thinking of jays," Craig argued, his gaze still arrested by one of the handsome creatures. "Cardinals are different, I used to have one as a pet."

"Really?" Kyle asked, surprised and willing to overlook that he'd been contradicted. "My mother won't let me have a pet, not with all the animals we already have to tend to. What's it like?"

Craig shrugged, looking back down at the shadowed path.

"It's nice, especially when they sing." He thought a moment, stepping carefully over a log. "In fact, I like animals much more than people."

"Is that so?" Kyle asked, suddenly annoyed at this admission but secretly entertained by it as well. He'd also come to notice that Craig's hair gleamed in the sunlight; blue highlights showing up among the black. "Maybe you'd like people more if you actually spoke to them on occasion. Have you ever thought of that?"

"Not anymore," Craig replied, his voice becoming bitter. "I have no reason to like people, not after those monsters killed my pa and carried off my ma and little sister. I hate people more than anything!"

Now Kyle was becoming very interested, though he was sorry to hear such a horrible admission from someone his own age. He'd heard gossip around the village about the fate of the Tucker clan, but this was the first time Craig had really spoken of it. Not sure how to respond, though full of questions, the two boys walked in silence for a time, suddenly coming across a wide expanse of frozen river.

"Be careful," Kyle warned, choosing his footing carefully; his boots scraping across the white-frosted surface. "The area over yonder is thin and beginning to rot," he pointed toward an area of less pristine ice, blackened and cracked through. "A boy fell through the ice last winter and drowned; they didn't find him until the spring thaw."

"That's awful," Craig murmured, though Kyle was also disturbed to see a small light of amusement in the boy's eyes. "What'd he look like when they found him?"

Kyle thought a moment, unsure as to how he should answer. He also felt somewhat uneasy, though he couldn't exactly say why; perhaps it was that small light burning in Craig's grey irises.

"I wasn't there when they fished him out," he admitted, slipping a little and suddenly grabbing onto Craig's sleeve; blushing slightly at his clumsiness. Wordlessly, Craig helped steady him but Kyle pulled away quickly. "Although I'd imagine he looked afraid, perhaps surprised."

"My pa looked surprised, even after they took the stone and bashed his skull in," Craig murmured, the light burning just a little brighter. "I'd never seen so much blood in my life."

Kyle was shocked into silence, having never heard anyone his age speak of such things so candidly; Craig almost appeared casual sharing this bit of information. They finally crossed the iced river and came upon the far bank, their boots crunching through latticeworks of ice. Kyle dared a glance at Craig, not sure what to say.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, quietly. He wanted to say more, but couldn't find the words.

Craig shrugged, a sullen expression firming his chin and hardening his eyes.

"It doesn't matter," he said, his walls coming between them once more. "They're all gone, and being sorry won't do anything about it."

"I just meant -"

"Who cares what you meant? It's not like you want me living with your family, it isn't like you want to help me. Admit it."

Fighting down his irritation, Kyle tried to explain himself, though he was quickly approaching a place where he was going to start throwing punches.

"Maybe that's how I felt at the beginning, but now I'm...I'm...," he groped for something to say, flushing again, "getting used to you. I don't mind you so much."

"Don't do me any favors," Craig scoffed, bumping him slightly. "Your mother forces you to be nice to me."

"She does," Kyle admitted, seeing no reason to lie. "But I'm still sorry about what happened to you and your kin."

"Won't bring them back," Craig said bitterly, bumping Kyle again; after a moment he smiled, though it appeared reluctant. "Thanks, though."

Kyle was completely taken aback at these words, though he tried not to show it; he didn't want Craig to think he had the power to surprise him. Instead, he bumped Craig back harder, until they were both giggling and pushing each other. By the time they'd reached the small cottage that was used as the schoolhouse, they were throwing and dodging snowballs; play fighting like they were two pups from the same litter.

"Hark, it is the Jew, you guys!" A whiny, high-pitched voice rang through the clear air, making Kyle groan as he wiped ice from his curls. As they drew nearer, he could see their classmates milling about, the most portly among them zeroing in on Kyle specifically.

"Prepare yourself," he muttered to Craig behind his hand. "He is the son of the village whore, so he always has a chip on his shoulder."

"Village whore, you say?" Craig asked, amused.

"She's a horse everyone's taken for a ride," Kyle replied, smirking. "At least that's what my father said, though he didn't know I was listening."

"Who goeth with you, Jew?" Kyle's chubby adversary stood before them, blocking the pair's path. "I shall not let you pass until you give me your name," he barked, staring at Craig.

"Why is he talking like that, and why does he keep calling you 'Jew'?" Craig asked Kyle, cocking an eyebrow. Turning to their tormentor, he spoke up. "You do know his name is Kyle, right? Are you daft?"

The fat boy sputtered with rage, his face reddening.

"Ay! I shall not be spoken to in such a fashion! Do you not know whom you're speaking with?"

Without missing a beat, Craig laughed before winking at Kyle.

"Of course I do. Why, you're the son of the village whore, aren't you? The horse everyone's taken for a ride?"

Kyle couldn't help but explode with laughter to see the look on the unfortunate boy's doughy face; light brown eyes widened with shock and anger.

"His name is Eric Cartman but we all just call him Cartman," he offered when he was finally able to speak again. Gesturing to Craig, he grinned widely. "This is -"

"I know who he is," Cartman said, smirking cruelly even though his eyes continued to blaze. "He's the son of the fool that refused to live within the protection of the village, isn't he? The fool who was found slain in his own bed." He popped his knuckles, looking Craig up and down with disdain. "You've no kin and no home and yet you try to pick a fight with me. You're the one who's daft."

"Cartman!" Kyle said, sucking in a breath at his classmate's cruelty. "How could you -"

He didn't have a chance to speak though, Craig opting to forgo words and tackling Cartman instead, easily knocking him to the ground. Pretty soon, all of the children in the yard had surrounded the fighting pair, Craig overpowering Cartman and sitting on his chest, banging him against the snowy earth; one hand groping around and finding a stone. He lifted it, preparing to bring it down on Cartman's head when Kyle jumped forward, taking tight hold of his arm.

"No, stop! You mustn't!" He cried, horrified that Craig could turn to such savage violence so readily. "You'll kill him!"

"So?" Craig seethed, attempting to pull away, that strange light glowing in his eyes again. In that moment he almost appeared a complete stranger. "He deserves it for what he said!"

Kyle could only stare at him, taken aback by how adamantly he spoke, his hands still circling his arm and holding it back; Cartman squealing like a stuck pig under Craig.

"You can't kill someone over a handful of words," Kyle said, attempting to make Craig see reason though he still appeared murderous; his teeth set as he stared at Cartman with unadulterated hate. "Just let him up, Craig; it isn't worth it."

"That's easy for you to say," Craig said, finally standing and shaking Kyle off. "You still have a family. I should be allowed to defend my kin how I see fit."

"I'm not saying you aren't allowed to defend your kin, Craig, I just -"

All at once, a loud bell began to ring near the entrance of the school, a grey-haired man standing on the steps and watching the group of children impassively. For a moment, everyone just stared at Craig, a multitude of different colored irises appraising him as Cartman finally got to his feet, brushing the snow from his wrecked and muddy clothes. Kyle could feel himself becoming too warm as he stood close to Craig, the scrutiny of their classmates laying across them like a weighted mantle.

"It's our teacher, Master Garrison," he muttered, nudging Craig a little, but he refused to budge. "He'll whip us if we're late. Let's go."

"No," Craig seethed, staring at his classmates in turn, almost daring them to say something against him. "I won't go in there, not with everyone watching me like this, like I'm a freak of nature."

"You are a freak of nature," Cartman jeered, backing away so that there was plenty of space between him and Craig. "You're nothing but an orphan. Nobody wants you, Craig. Even the Jews' family only took you in because they plan on fattening you up and then sacrificing you to Moses or something!"

"Shut up, you fat sack of dung!" Kyle shouted, stepping toward him. "You know that isn't true! Stop making up lies!"

A frail, nervous looking boy came forward, worrying his hands as he peered closely at Craig.

"They say you only survived the raider's because of dark magic," he said, staring at him with wide, blue eyes. "Be that true? Are you bewitched?"

"Butters, don't be foolish," Kyle cried, stepping in front of Craig and holding up his hands. "Craig isn't bewitched, he just -"

"I've heard he's some manner of demon," another boy piped up, looking at Craig with sudden suspicion. "They say if he walks by a pail of fresh milk it curdles."

"Please, everyone, you don't understand! Craig's just -"

"Just shut up! Shut up, all of you!" Craig yelled, pushing Kyle out of the way. "You're all idiots and fools! Now I can see why my pa didn't want to live in the village! You're all as stupid as a herd of cattle! I hate you! I hate all of you!"

"What on earth is the commotion over here, children?" The grey-haired schoolmaster broke through the fray, his eyes narrowed and the bell still clutched in his hand. Coming closer, he stared at Craig, his expression hardening. "Aren't you the lad whose family was killed by the raiders? You're coming to school now?"

"He's staying with my family, Master Garrison," Kyle spoke up, fighting back his nervousness at the way his classmates were converging on him and Craig; all of their eyes full of fear and accusation. It had all happened so fast.

"Leave it to a pack of Jews to bring in a stray," Master Garrison sighed, giving Craig a once over. "I can already tell you're going to be trouble. Are you the one that's started all this din? I don't want anyone in my school causing tumult."

"You and your school can go to the Devil!" Craig shouted, turning tail and running back through the crowd and toward the river, leaving Kyle to mouth wordlessly behind him until he finally got a hold of himself.

"Craig! Craig, come back!" He yelled, going after him. "Stop!"

"Good riddance, orphan!" Cartman yelled, beginning to laugh. "Never come back!"

Looking back, Kyle threw up a very rude gesture in response to Cartman's comment, his feet slipping over the snow as he tore after Craig's retreating form. Turning his focus in front of him, he was amazed at how fast Craig was, galloping over the snow like he was built to run, his slender form streaking across the ice with a deftness Kyle could never hope to replicate.

"Craig, stop! Please!" He yelled desperately, his voice carrying far across the frozen river; cracking a little. Tears ran down his eyes as he ran, the result of the cold air relentlessly assaulting his face. With dismay, he could tell that Craig was outstripping him terribly, but he forged on. Slipping, he fell to the ice and gasped, cracking his knee and clutching at it, glancing up at the last moment to see Craig disappearing into the woods, becoming just another shadow.

******

The moon was a galleon tossed upon cloudy seas as Kyle trudged through the night-darkened forest, continuously calling out Craig's name until he became hoarse; his entire body becoming numb in the relentless cold. He'd been searching for hours, coming across what he hoped were Craig's footprints on occasion, but never happening upon him. Shivering, he clutched his cloak around him as he resolutely walked through the chilled forest, fighting back tears as he pushed onward; unwilling to give up.

_Mother's going to kill us,_ he thought, his teeth chattering with every gust of icy wind. _How am I ever going to explain what happened? And what if I never find Craig?_

Kyle couldn't help but be furious with his classmates, their idiot words and accusations continuing to ring through his head even as the hours scraped by. He'd hardly been surprised by Cartman's cruelty, but he'd never expected the rest of them to jump in and begin terrorizing Craig as well.

_He's right_ , he seethed. _They're all nothing but cattle, following after the other. I wouldn't be surprised if they all jumped off the same cliff; they just need someone to get them started._

He was further dismayed by the fact that he'd actually managed to break some ground with Craig before the other kids began terrorizing them. They'd been talking and laughing, almost like they were friends, and Craig had even opened up; maybe not a lot, but at least a little. Kyle had really felt like they'd started to make some headway, and he'd even found himself enjoying Craig's company, even if he was somewhat gruff and abrupt. Now he worried that he'd never find him, almost left breathless by how much he despised the idea; the very notion terrifying him.

"Craig!" He yelled, his voice already terribly strained. "Craig, where are you? It's me, Kyle! Please, please come out!"

But the only response was the dry clatter of the wind, rustling the ice-laden branches of the trees like skeleton arms. Kyle shivered again, just listening to it. He was glad to be wearing the thick, woolen cloak his mother insisted upon, but even its reassuring weight wasn't enough to keep out all of the chill, and he could barely feel his fingers and toes, his face an unmoving mask; so stiff it felt like it would shatter any moment.

He'd almost decided to admit defeat when he thought he heard a rustling in some bushes, sudden excitement lancing through his veins; almost warming him.

"Craig? Craig, is that you? Stop playing and come out here, we need to get home," Kyle called, drawing closer. Reaching out a trembling hand, he suddenly jumped back when he caught sight of the first pair of glowing, yellow eyes. All at once, another pair appeared, and then another, and another. Sucking in a breath, he froze for a moment when one of the pairs moved, and a large, shaggy wolf stepped from the bushes, advancing on him slowly; a tongue sliding along glistening, drooling chops.

"S-stay back," Kyle gasped, trembling violently as he retreated, his boot slipping in the ice-crusted snow and nearly throwing him off balance. At the last moment, he righted himself, his eyes never leaving the gigantic wolf stalking toward him, another one stepping from the darkness to join its mate. Slowly he continued to backtrack, yelping lightly when he felt his back hit a tree, and he sobbed, knowing that there was no way he could fight off a pack of hungry, winter-crazed wolves, their drool littering the snow with every step. He was also aware that he barely had a ghost of a chance of outrunning them, but he had to try.

It was with a desperate prayer that he turned and began to sprint away, willing his feet to grow wings and fly him far away from the horror on his heels, his breaths tearing painfully out of his chest as he crashed through the trees. Errant branches tore at his cloak, holding him back and tearing at the fabric as he took flight, the pack of wolves sounding like they were only mere steps behind, which he was sure was the case; every second precious as he begged for deliverance. Vividly, he could imagine his body being found the next day, torn to shreds and his blood splatters bright splashes in the snow; scarlet as the cardinals Craig had admired earlier in the day. Now that moment felt like a million years ago, almost like it had happened in another life; one with a future.

Coming to the frozen river, Kyle launched himself across the ice, slipping and sliding like a newborn foal learning to walk, his boots unable to catch any traction in his haste. Glancing over his shoulder, he couldn't help but choke out a strangled sob as he saw the wolves right at his back, so close he could see their fangs glistening when the caustic moonlight caught them; ropes of saliva sliding over their wicked lengths. Turning back, he could barely see through his tears now as he ran without direction, only coming to a dead stop when he heard the ice split beneath him, and then one of his boots was going straight through, the cold water almost feeling like it was burning him as he began to sink.

The wolves stopped abruptly, too intelligent to continue pursuing him now that they saw him sinking, his scrabbling hands clutching at cold air as he plunged into unforgiving, dark water, his breath trapped in his chest as he clung to the edge, the ice breaking apart in his hands. Reluctantly, the wolves slunk off, no doubt becoming fearful of the ice splintering beneath their paws.

"No, no," Kyle whined, desperately clawing at the swiftly cracking ice, his weight breaking through its rotted surface as his heavy, waterlogged cloak began to drag him down. Now he wasn't imagining his body being found torn apart in the woods, no, now he could see them fishing him out of the water come spring thaw; a look of terror on his face and his eyes and nose gone, eaten away by hungry fish.

"S-save me," he moaned, the cold beginning to overtake him as he started to give up the fight, his body and brain becoming so much ice as the elements claimed his body; his brain all but shutting down from the terror and cold. "P-please -"

"Kyle! Hold on!"

All at once, Kyle saw a dark figure sliding across the ice on its belly, his groggy mind barely able to comprehend what he was seeing. He'd almost decided he was going mad from the cold when a familiar pair of grey eyes came into focus, Craig's face swimming before him as he came closer.

"Grab a hold!" Craig yelled, throwing a rope toward Kyle. "Hurry!"

It took all of Kyle's resolve to reach his numbed hands out to grasp at the rope, his fingers closing around it but not feeling it, merely trusting that it was there. Fading in and out, he tried to stay conscious as he felt his body being pulled from the horrible waters, the ice continuing to break apart slightly but finally finding himself sliding across it; gasping as he stared at the expanse of night sky opening up over top of him. The stars had never appeared so beautiful yet strangely hostile at the same time, and before he realized he was doing it, he was weeping.

"Hey, you're okay, don't cry," Craig soothed him, coming to Kyle's side and gathering him into his arms. "It's going to be okay, Kyle; I've got you."

*******

Kyle came to later, his eyelids aching as they slid upward, the first thing he could hold onto being a raging, orange fire; so hot that the center throbbed like a beating blue heart. Weakly, he looked around, surprised to find himself cradled in a warm blanket by his mother. She was rocking him like he was a baby, humming softly with her eyes closed.

"M-mother?" He choked out, still not completely sure that he was safe at home, his body wonderfully warm because of the fire and his mother's arms.

"Oh, Kyle," she murmured, kissing his cheek softly and holding him closer. "Don't try to talk, baby. Just sleep."

"W-what happened? Where's Craig?"

"Right here," Craig said, coming over and staring down at Kyle with sad eyes, the grey light dancing in them but lacking his usual aggression. "You almost drowned, Kyle; you almost died because of me."

"Craig went out looking for you after it got dark," Sheila explained, kissing his forehead now; here warm cheek pressed against Kyle's skin. "Dear heart, why didn't you come home? What were you doing out in the woods?"

Kyle stared at Craig, a sudden realization coming to him.

"You came straight here, didn't you?" He asked, softly. Flushing softly, Kyle felt unspeakably foolish for not checking at home first, having automatically assumed that Craig wouldn't come back directly. He'd thought that Craig would just run off, his mind not allowing him to think that this was the boy's home as well; where he belonged. "I thought -"

"Of course I did, Kyle," Craig said, pulling up a chair close to the fire; close to Kyle "This is my home, isn't it?"

"Craig told us what happened at school," Sheila continued, rocking him back and forth. "He said you stood up for him, just like a real brother."

"I had to," Kyle said, sighing a little as exhaustion washed over him. He was also beginning to feel a strange, warm contentment; suddenly very happy to have Craig nearby. "They were saying such awful things, and..." he trailed off, shrugging. "It wasn't right, none of it was."

"Hush, you need to rest now," Sheila said, brushing Kyle's curls from his face. "I'll give you some hot chamomile tea and then tuck you into bed, love."

"I guess I should go and prepare my spot," Craig said, standing and looking down at Kyle, the sad expression still on his face. "I'm sorry, Kyle. For everything."

"Don't go," Kyle said before he could stop himself, lifting a hand and taking a hold of Craig's tunic. "You don't have to sleep on the floor tonight, Craig. You can sleep in my bed, that way we'll both be warmer. Okay?"

"You mean it?" Craig asked, his eyes widening with surprise.

"Of course," Kyle said, smiling a little. "I won't take no for an answer. Besides, what are brothers for?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is slow and boring, you guys. I'm in a funk so I was lucky I was able to write anything, lmao. xD Oh, depression, you can fuck all the way off.
> 
> Anyway, ENJOY! <3

Kyle awoke on his seventeenth birthday to an empty bed and a pensive, melancholy mood already plaguing him before he even sat up. Birthdays tended to put him in a dull mood, a contemplative state of mind, and this year was no exception. It didn't help that Craig had already awoken before him, leaving his bed unmade and bare; a hateful reminder that their years of sharing sleeping quarters were far behind them. Sighing, he was prepared to drag his sour disposition with him to the breakfast table when something caught his eye, and he quickly sat up; going to the windowsill.

As the morning sunlight washed over him and spring breezes stirred his scarlet curls, Kyle admired the tiny wooden animal that had been left for him to find; a birthday gift from the stepbrother he couldn't help but admire. It was exquisitely detailed, the wood smooth against his fingers as he turned it round and round, wanting to see it from every angle.

"A manticore," he murmured, completely delighted and awed by Craig's skills at carving. The creature was comprised of impossible parts, the body of a lion, the face of a human, and the tail of a scorpion. Such a beast had not been seen in their part of the world for ages, but Kyle and Craig had been enthralled by the pictures they'd seen of them in the books Master Broflovski brought home from his travels.

Holding the figure up to the light, Kyle couldn't help but smile as he studied his gift, knowing it would make a fine addition to the growing menagerie Craig had given him over the years; his eyes trailing to his collection sitting on the sunny windowsill. There were all manner of creatures, both fantastic and real, and they were all made with care by Craig's skilled hands. They were also a testament to how his skills had improved over the years, starting out crude at first and slowly over time becoming more and more detailed; more realistic. There were dragons and wolves and bears and birds, the first creature being a lopsided cardinal Craig gave Kyle on his eleventh birthday, a new animal following year after year, others being gifted on solstices and various holidays. Sometimes Craig just gave Kyle a new animal out of nowhere, and those were the ones he liked the most.

Craig had explained away the gesture, the lopsided cardinal, by telling Kyle that he felt bad for him because he'd never been allowed to have a pet. He'd been raised to consider animals instruments of work and providers of certain foods, but beyond that they weren't to be considered novelties or playthings. He'd been surprised at the time, eyeing Craig with suspicion and not really understanding why his heart had begun to beat just a little bit faster. It'd been very shortly after Craig had rescued Kyle from the icy river, and they'd managed to cobble together a friendship of sorts, though they still had their quarrels and disagreements.

"I don't understand. Why are you giving me this? Why would you care that I've never had a pet?" Kyle had asked, holding the bit of wood in his hand and staring at his stoic stepbrother, who just gazed at him impassively. He'd merely shrugged.

"I already told you. Besides, I made it, I should get to decide who keeps it."

Then he'd refused to answer anymore questions, and Kyle had placed the cardinal on the windowsill, where its mates soon came to settle as well; a parade of creatures that Kyle very quickly came to love. Craig had proven time and again to be rough around the edges and hardened by circumstance, but Kyle firmly believed that the carvings were indicative of softer things in his stepbrother's personality; a tenderness he kept under wraps but was there. He could feel it.

Quickly, Kyle began to dress in his light tunic and breeches, his feet bare as they traveled over the floorboards and carried him down to the kitchen. His mother was at the hearth, stirring something in a large cauldron, her face red from the heat. Ike was sitting at the table eating a bowl of porridge and their father had already left for the day, going deep into the forest to cut wood, but Craig was nowhere to be seen. On the table sat a small tart studded with fruit, and Kyle smiled to see it; it was a birthday tradition, after all.

Kyle's mother turned from the fire and wiped a hand across her brow, her eyes lighting up when they fell on her oldest son. She gestured to the pastry.

"I added extra strawberries this year," she announced, laying a hand on Ike's shoulder. "Your brother helped gather them."

"Thank you," Kyle said, lifting the tart to admire it. The fruit had been glazed, the strawberries a vivid pinkish red; small blackberries littered among them. "I'm sure it'll be delicious."

"Well, you're my sweet boy," Mistress Broflovski gushed, reaching out to tousle Kyle's curls. "I figured a little extra sugar would help to sweeten your seventeenth year. Happy birthday, child."

"Happy birthday!" Ike chirped, bouncing up and down. He so admired his big brother, and he always made a point to show it.

Kyle blushed, pleased but embarrassed at their attentions. Brushing a curl behind his ear, he cradled the pretty tart in his hand and glanced toward the door, the sound of an ax striking wood ringing clearly in the distance.

"Craig?" He asked, looking at his mother. She nodded.

"He should be just about done chopping the wood," she said, turning back to the hearth. "Why don't you go outside and help him stack it?"

"That's a good idea," Kyle said, heading for the door. "I can share my tart with him." Stopping, he plucked a fat strawberry from the top and offered it to Ike, grinning. "Because you helped gather them."

"Thanks," Ike said, taking the strawberry and gazing at it with small child reverence. Kyle almost laughed but he refrained; after all, he didn't want to hurt Ike's feelings.

"What are your plans for the rest of the day?" His mother called behind him. "We'll be having a special supper tonight, Kyle; I don't want you late coming home."

Kyle shrugged, turning back toward the door.

"I'm not sure, honestly. Craig will probably have some ideas, though. We'll be home on time, though; promise."

"See that you are," his mother sighed, stirring the cauldron. "And don't let Craig get you into any trouble, son."

Kyle rolled his eyes at his mother's words as he pushed through the door and stepped into the late spring sunshine. The air was resplendent with the scent of wildflowers and freshly turned earth, the sky pale blue like a robin's egg. Warmth poured over him as he strolled toward Craig, who was busily chopping wood; shirtless and sweating as he brought his ax down. The sunshine caught in his dark hair and Kyle was once again preoccupied by the blue sheen present in the strands. His stepbrother had grown up handsome, having retained a lean quality though hours of working outside had afforded him a certain musculature as well. His face was losing its childhood softness and becoming angular, and already he was developing facial hair.

He stood for a moment and watched as Craig easily split yet another log, his heartbeat picking up its pace as he considered his stepbrother's pale skin and sinewy arms. Kyle had gone through his own changes as well, his childish metamorphosis, though his was much less profound. He was of medium height with a slender build, his face having attained more of a heart shape with a pointed chin; his neck long and graceful. He'd been teased unmercifully over the years for his more feminine qualities but he paid the naysayers no mind. What he lacked in physical prowess he made up for in cleverness, having surpassed all of his peers when it came to intellectual pursuits; he was in the top of his class at the small school.

Besides, Craig had told him on more than one occasion that Kyle was far prettier than any of the village girls, and these were words that he'd tucked close to his heart. Whenever he felt melancholic or pushed away by his stepbrother, Kyle would focus on this bit of kindness and find a way to keep going. He often felt like he was too overloaded with secrets and worries to keep them to himself for very much longer, but Kyle had promised himself long ago that he would never reveal his heart to Craig unless he had reason to believe his feelings would be well received. If not, well, he supposed he was content to suffer in silence. What other choice did he have?

"Did you need something?"

Snapping to attention, Kyle broke from his thoughts and noticed that Craig was staring at him, his face covered with perspiration. He leaned his ax against a tree and took up a large piece of wood, carrying it toward the pile stacked under the eaves of the cottage. Kyle followed him, almost feeling like a duckling trailing behind its mother.

"I wanted to share this with you," he said, coming up beside Craig and offering him the tart, the sun glinting off the candied fruit. "I know how much you love sweets."

Craig glanced at the tart before smiling slowly at Kyle. Reaching up, he picked off a strawberry and popped it in his mouth, the action staining his lips red. Kyle stared at the traces of juice left on Craig's mouth and felt his own start to water. He gulped, beginning to feel nervous.

"You do this every year," Craig said, plucking off a blackberry this time. "You always offer to share your birthday tart and I always tell you you don't have to."

"I know, so why don't we skip all that this time around," Kyle replied, picking off a strawberry as well and placing it in his mouth; the sweet juices coursing over his tongue. Suddenly, he could imagine feeding Craig the next piece of fruit, and his heart started pounding in his chest. Instead, he pressed the pastry into Craig's hands.

"Go ahead, take a bite. You can't refuse me on my birthday, now can you?"

Craig shook his head and rolled his eyes, though he continued to smile. Sighing softly, he lifted the confection to his mouth and took a bite.

"There, satisfied?" Chewing, he reached out and pulled on one of Kyle's curls.

"Very," Kyle replied, primly. Feeling bold, he leaned forward and took a bite out of the tart still resting in Craig's hands. Pulling back, he could feel the flush rising on his cheeks as he chewed, his eyes darting away. Scrambling for something to say, he remembered the wooden figure he'd found that morning.

"Thanks, by the way, for the manticore. It's perfect."

Craig snorted, taking another big bite of the pastry, the tart disappearing swiftly between the two of them.

"There's nothing perfect about it, Kyle. I'm improving, but my work is far from perfect." He softened, taking in Kyle's crestfallen expression. "But, thanks, okay? I'm glad you like it."

"I wish creatures like that actually existed nowadays," Kyle mused, waving away the tart when Craig offered it to him. The sugar was resting on his tongue and the sun was shining down on him, warming his hair. The scent of Craig's clean sweat mixed with the aroma of wildflowers and earth. In that moment, Kyle couldn't have felt more content; for the most part, anyway.

"I think they do," Craig said, polishing off the dessert and brushing his hands together. "I just think they're hiding from mankind. Can you blame them?"

Walking away, he went back to the pile of split logs and picked up an armful. Kyle followed suit, and it wasn't long before they'd stacked the wood neatly; the pile having risen nearly to the cottage's eave.

"If they're capable of magic, why would they need to hide?" Kyle asked, wiping some sweat from his brow. "They'd be able to protect themselves."

"They shouldn't have to," Craig muttered, pulling on his shirt. Appearing agitated, he glanced at Kyle, studying his face. "Let's not talk about this, okay?"

"Right," Kyle replied, feeling foolish. He knew better than to talk about things like protecting oneself and hiding away. Craig had improved over the years when it came to dealing with his past, but it wasn't as if he accepted it. There was still a part of him, a large part, actually, that was steeped in rage and hate for what had befallen his family. There was also a smaller, more tenuous part of himself that yearned to find his missing mother and sister. Kyle had never really broached the subject with him at length, but he wanted to tell Craig to let go of that yearning, that hope, because it would only serve to destroy him. He didn't harbor any notions that Craig's kin had been spared; the raiders were ruthless. They very rarely kept their human spoils alive for very long. No, they were typically used and discarded quickly, once their novelty had worn off.

"What did you want to do today? To celebrate?" Craig asked, brightening slightly, though his eyes were still hard. They were rarely vulnerable, but Kyle had seen softness in them before, he could've sworn to it.

"I don't really have any ideas," Kyle replied, honestly.

_I just want to be with you._

Craig thought a moment, wiping some residual strawberry juice from the corner of his mouth. Snapping his fingers, he grinned at Kyle.

"The village. We'll go into the village and visit the brothel. Isn't it about time you became a man?"

Kyle could only stare at him in disbelief, the comfortable happiness that had settled over him beginning to crack apart.

"I, well, I don't -"

"Relax, Kyle. I was kidding," Craig interrupted, stifling a laugh behind his hand. "I know you wouldn't step foot in a place like that. You're still too green."

"Just because you like to waste your time in places like that doesn't mean everyone does." Kyle turned away, not wanting Craig to see his face. He usually tried to ignore the fact that his stepbrother had visited the brothel on a handful of occasions just to 'see what it was like' to be with a woman. Kyle had absolutely no interest in being close to a woman in that manner; he'd never been interested in that.

"Why don't we go to the village anyway?" Craig said, coming up behind him and laying a warm hand on Kyle's shoulder. "I have some money. We could stop at the tavern."

Kyle sighed, some of his good mood holding on but it was waning. He shrugged, mildly curious about where Craig had gotten money but not wanting to ask. He knew his stepbrother liked to do odd jobs for some of the other villagers, but the less he knew about his personal affairs the better. Usually, the more he knew about Craig the more hurt he felt. His stepbrother had a life beyond him, and this was a very difficult fact for him to stomach.

"Sure, why not?" He said, moving away so Craig couldn't touch him anymore. "Just as long as we're home in time for supper. Mother has something special planned."

******

Craig always felt affectionate when he was drunk, and today was no exception. It didn't help that Kyle was so close and looking so pretty on his birthday, his red curls shining as they walked along the narrow streets of the village. His stepbrother's cheeks were flushed from the ale they'd consumed, and his lips were plump and full; still stained red from strawberry juice. Craig wanted to wipe the juice away with his tongue, but of course he didn't dare. Kyle was so innocent, so pure, he didn't want to corrupt him even though he knew he easily could.

Kyle had never been a master at the art of subtly, and it didn't help that he wore his heart on his sleeve. Ever since their fourteenth year Craig had seen the changes, the shift in Kyle's attitude toward him, and since then he'd been acutely aware of the feelings developing slowly; time only strengthening them. He could feel Kyle's green eyes following him when he moved, and he didn't want to admit how powerful the sensation was, knowing that another person yearned for him. He wanted to be kind, he wanted to leave Kyle's heart intact, but another part of him, the savage, secret part, wanted to take what was being offered regardless of the consequences.

Ordinarily, that's exactly what Craig would do, take what he wanted and keep moving, but he had a tenderness for his stepbrother he couldn't explain. Kyle seemed to have the power to tap into the one part of him that hadn't been twisted over time from rage and disappointment. Craig's family wasn't the only thing that had been snuffed out one winter night seven years ago, no, there had been more losses than that. He held onto the belief that his mother and sister were out there somewhere, waiting for him to wake up and rescue them, but he wanted to be sensible. On an intellectual level, he knew they were probably dead, but hope is a powerful thing. It's able to sustain itself on almost nothing, and if given life it can grow to staggering levels; nearly consuming the host it clings to.

It was almost like Kyle represented some fantastical, unachievable ideal for Craig. He was kind, he was good, he was soft...nothing seemed to break him down, almost like he was impervious to the harsh realities of life. Craig supposed he could love these aspects of Kyle, but beyond that it was almost like he was frozen in time; his heart held in stasis since the night the raiders came. He often thought that he was doing Kyle a disservice by viewing him the way he did. Clearly, he wasn't perfect because that was an impossibility, but Craig couldn't help but put him on a pedestal. After all, the world was so unbelievably ugly and worthless to him for the most part; wasn't it okay to have someone to admire, even if his expectations weren't exactly realistic?

"I have another surprise for you, by the way," he said, his voice slurred as he wrapped an arm around Kyle's shoulders. "Look forward to it, okay?"

Kyle glanced at him, green eyes wide and catching the light from above; murky, ocean depths. Craig also noticed the flush cresting his cheekbones and making his freckles pop.

"Another surprise? But you already gave me the manticore."

Craig shrugged and rested his cheek against Kyle's hair, nearly stumbling against him. Maybe he shouldn't have had so many pints.

"What can I say? I was feeling generous. After all, you're the only person I'd want to give anything to."

"Is that so?" Kyle smiled and looked away, almost resembling a maiden being courted. He was so pretty in that moment that Craig almost felt guilty for teasing him so much, but it was fleeting.

"You already knew that," Craig replied, pulling away when he felt Kyle try to lean against him. Flicking his eyes away, he noticed a small figure curled on a blood red length of cloth laid on the ground. They were lingering in the shadows of an alleyway, their setup clearly impermanent and meant to be overtly noticeable. The splash of crimson was stark against the ground, the figure themselves dressed in a royal blue cloak, their face obscured. A golden bowl of water sat before them.

"Could it be a fortune teller, you think?" He asked, nudging Kyle and pointing. "Should we check it out?"

Kyle glanced over as well, a timid vibe emanating from him.

"I've been told to give fortune tellers a wide berth," he replied, though his gait began to slow. "You can't trust them, can you?"

"You can't trust anyone, Kyle," Craig said, flippantly. He laughed when he saw the annoyed expression on Kyle's face. "I was joking. Besides, it's just for fun, isn't it? Let's give it a try; it'll be another gift from me to you."

"You really shouldn't throw your money away like this. Not on me." Kyle smiled softly though, clearly pleased.

"I'll do what I please with what I've earned," Craig said, taking a hold of Kyle's arm and pulling him toward the cloaked figure. Exasperation coursed through him at his stepbrother's reluctance to ever try anything new. When was he ever going to start letting himself live a little? He kept his world so terribly small.

The figure was already lifting their head by the time the pair stepped before them. A pair of dark eyes appraised them, settled among smooth brown skin. Though there weren't any wrinkles in the flesh that Craig could see, the woman appeared ageless. He couldn't have pegged her as being young or old even if he tried, and the look in her eyes was disconcerting, almost appearing equal parts ravenous and tender.

"You have reservations about me," the woman spoke, a smoky voice passing between her red lips. She was looking directly at Kyle. "I promise you have nothing to fear from me, child." Her eyes slid to Craig for a fraction of a second and then flitted back to Kyle. "Would you like to have a taste of your future?"

"He would," Craig spoke up, nudging Kyle forward when he hesitated. "Give him some good news, though, today's his -"

"Birthing day," the woman interrupted, smiling like a sphinx. "Ten and seven years. Have they been kind to you?"

"H-how did you know that?" Kyle asked, dropping to his knees and kneeling before her.

"You're glowing today," she said, picking up a cluster of colored rocks from the red cloth. She clutched them in her hand. "Can you feel yourself changing? Does it make you happy?"

"I don't know," Kyle replied, almost sounding sad. "I never know if I'm really happy or not."

"One might say that's the human condition," she chuckled. Suddenly, she glanced up at Craig, her fathomless eyes narrowing. "Lay the money on the cloth, lad. One piece of silver should do for this boy's future."

Craig rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket. He tossed the coin down where it landed on its thin edge. He stared at it, disbelieving.

"Now, let's see what there is to see, shall we?" She asked, shaking the rocks in her fist for a moment before plopping them in the bowl of water. Ripples fanned out in delicate rings, each of them overlapping as she studied the water's surface. She clucked her tongue and glanced up at Kyle, her face almost resembling a cat's; mischievous but closed off.

"You have trials in your future," she announced, peering back down into the bowl. "They will be very taxing, agonizing, really, but they will not be insurmountable."

"Really?" Kyle asked, looking anxiously into the water as well. "What's going to happen? Please, tell me more!"

Craig sighed, looking into the bowl as well. Maybe this hadn't been the best of ideas. Sure, the woman had known that it was Kyle's birthday but this was clearly a crock of horseshit.

"Every life is filled with trials," he said, leaning down and taking a hold of Kyle's tunic. He tugged on it. "You aren't telling us anything that someone with common sense doesn't already know."

"There's light in your heart," the woman continued, glaring at Craig for a moment before turning her focus back to Kyle. "Light that can be a blessing or a curse, depending on how it's used. You have special blood, too, though you don't realize it. Beware of a blonde haired temptress, child. Heed my words."

Craig cocked an eyebrow and let go of Kyle's tunic. He straightened up.

"A blonde haired temptress?"

The woman ignored him, all of her attention trained on Kyle, who was leaning forward; enraptured.

"What is lost is lost, given over to the wind. Acceptance of this fact will save you, and those you care for."

For whatever reason, these words filled Craig with a vague fury. He nudged Kyle with his foot.

"Let's go."

"You don't want your fortune told as well?" The woman interrupted, looking up at him. For a moment her eyes seemed to swirl like the water in her bowl; Craig noticed that the ripples were still trembling there.

"This was a lark, nothing more," Craig replied. "I'll handle my own future, thanks."

Kyle stood as well and rubbed at his arm, appearing uncomfortable; eyes darting between Craig and the woman.

"Craig, please. You're being impolite."

"And you're being a goose, so there's that."

"Have faith, child," the woman suddenly smiled, revealing perfect, white teeth; the canines unusually sharp. "It will see you through."

"Codswallop," Craig snapped, taking a hold of Kyle's shoulders and leading him away. "What has faith ever done for anyone?"

******

"I just don't understand," Kyle said, looking down at his dangling feet, bare and white; the bottoms sandy from the riverbank. "If her words were just going to annoy you, why did you insist on me having my fortune told?"

Craig sank his teeth into an apricot and chewed thoughtfully, absentmindedly handing the piece of fruit over to Kyle who took it; sun-warmed and sweet smelling. He took a bite as well, waiting for Craig to speak.

"I thought it would be fun, something to pass the time," he replied, swallowing. He was leaned up against the tree trunk, one leg resting on the branch while the other dangled like Kyle's. He hadn't put his shirt back on after they'd decided to go swimming, and his skin was glowing orange as the sun sank in the distance. "But I didn't think she'd be such an obvious fraud. She could've at least hid it better."

"But she knew it was my birthday," Kyle pointed out. "She even knew my age."

"Luck," Craig muttered, accepting the apricot when Kyle passed it back. "Nothing more, nothing less."

Sighing, Kyle looked away, his eyes falling on the river coursing below them. They'd spent the better part of the warm afternoon wading in the water, but now the sun was making its descent, making the shadows grow long and purple. Soon they'd have to return home, to his mother's special birthday supper, but Craig had been in something of a foul mood since their encounter with the fortune teller. He'd wanted to broach the subject for hours, but he hadn't found the courage until after they'd climbed the tree; wanting to be up and above everything, the forest spreading out below them like a woman's gown.

"She said I have light in my heart, and special blood," he said, softly. He reached back to caress one of his aching shoulder blades, the muted throb coming and going but never completely gone. It just seemed to get worse as the weeks unfolded. "I wonder what she meant by that."

"Double talk," Craig said, his shadowed eyes watching him closely; the apricot languishing in his hand. "Is your back hurting again?"

Kyle shrugged, touched that his stepbrother noticed but shy as well. He didn't like to make waves if he could help it.

"Mother says it's growing pains," he offered, watching as Craig brought the fruit to his lips and took a bite; his lips resting on the fruit's orange skin. He could only wonder how the juice would taste if he could kiss it away.

"Did you mean what you said, about never knowing if you're happy?" He asked, suddenly. He held the fruit out to Kyle who waved it away.

"I suppose," Kyle replied, swinging his feet back and forth, his pale legs stained orange-red by the sun. "I can only guess most of the time, although..." he trailed off, the shyness from before compounding and making him flush.

"Although?"

"I think I'm happy right now," he said, watching Craig out of the corner of his eye. He was waiting for the endless teasing that was no doubt heading his way, but he couldn't help it. Kyle's favorite days were spent just like this, next to the person he cared for the most.

"Well, good," Craig replied instead, pushing off from the trunk and scooting over so he was sitting right next to Kyle. He finished off the apricot and chucked the pit away, the brown seed fading away into the grass. He grinned. "Hopefully that'll manage to take root."

Kyle smiled, nodding. Nervously, he tucked a curl behind his ear, glancing at the small gap between his and Craig's thighs; the space less than a finger's length.

"I wonder if she was talking about a nymph," Craig said, reaching into his pocket. "You know, the blonde-haired temptress? Do those still exist in this part of the world?"

"My father claimed to see one once," Kyle replied, thinking for a moment. "In fact, he's talked about seeing things like that in the past a few times...but he said it was very deep in the forest. Much further than I'd ever be willing to go."

Drawing his hand out, Craig had his fingers clenched around something; arresting Kyle's attention immediately.

"Is that my other surprise?" He asked, daring to reach out and tap the top of Craig's hand lightly. "The one you mentioned before?"

"Maybe," Craig replied, mischievously. "Maybe not." He pulled his hand away so it was on his other side, outside of Kyle's reach. "Or maybe your gift is something completely different."

Kyle just looked up at him, surprised. Craig was grinning down at him, apricot juice still resting on his lips and the dying light creating shadows in his eyes; under his sharp cheekbones. Suddenly, he leaned forward, his face mere inches away from Kyle's.

"C-Craig?" Kyle stammered, his face becoming terribly hot again; Craig's clean scent wafting under his nose, drawing him in. "What are you doing?"

"Surprising you, apparently," Craig laughed, his breath sweet against Kyle's face; sweet and warm. "What would you like me to do? It's your birthday, after all."

Heartbeat thudding uncomfortably fast, Kyle pulled away, breaking eye contact.

"Stop teasing me," he muttered, hugging himself. "That's what I want."

A strong hand came to rest on Kyle's thigh, and he nearly shivered. Reluctantly, he turned his focus back to Craig, who was watching him closely. Kyle was surprised to see the harshness fade from his eyes momentarily as he held something up to the light, its iridescent surface glowing crimson.

"For you," he murmured, holding it out. "Happy birthday, Kyle."

Eyes wide, Kyle slowly reached out to take what Craig was offering, cradling it in his palm as the first stars began to bleed across the sky; sharp, white points.

"A unicorn," he breathed, studying it from every angle. It had been crafted from rock instead of wood, and it was of a delicate nature contrary to Craig's usual work. "Craig, it's beautiful. I didn't even know you were making things out of rock now."

"I've been wanting to make you a unicorn for awhile," Craig said, nonchalantly; appraising the figure as well. He appeared more critical, though, not awed like Kyle. "I remembered you saying it was your favorite creature in that book your father brought home. I just knew that wood wouldn't do, so I've been practicing with rock as well; it's a little more time consuming."

"I know you'll argue with me but this one _is_ perfect," Kyle replied, sliding a finger over the figure's smooth surface; slick like ice in his hand. The unicorn's horn was long and slightly curved, its mane wild as if it were running, unfettered and free. "I love it."

"I was hoping it'd make you happy." Drawing his leg up, Craig rested his cheek on his knee and continued to watch Kyle, his smile almost tender now. "Even if you aren't sure that's how you feel."

Clutching the unicorn in his hand, Kyle closed his eyes as he held it to his chest, his heart still pounding rapidly but the sensation was so pleasant now. He wanted to bottle this moment and hold onto it forever, carrying it around in his pocket.

"No, I'm happy right now," he said, slowly opening his eyes and seeing that the sun had disappeared completely. "I know that for a fact, Craig."

"Even though you have trials in your future?" Craig teased, his hand still resting on Kyle's thigh, sending delicious currents through his skin.

"Oh, hush. I'm sure she tells everyone that," Kyle replied, grinning slowly even as a faint feeling of unease continued to drift through him. "I'll take her words with a grain of salt, just like you."

 _Besides, as long as I can have moments like this, I'll be just fine,_ he thought, studying Craig out of the corner of his eye. _If we're together, everything will be okay; I know it._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings!
> 
> This part was super fun to write even if it took me for-freaking-ever, lol. xD I'm slowly but surely overcoming my writer's block, so that's super sweet. I'm really having fun w/ the fairy tale aspects in this, you guys. Fairy tales are seriously my jam, especially the really dark, macabre ones. <3
> 
> Anyway, ENJOY! <3
> 
> PS: Thanks for the bomb-ass comments, btw. I wasn't sure if anyone was even reading this but your feedback gave me the push to keep going - you guys are the best, I am so cereal. xD

The light of a new day was shining through the window as Craig and Kyle dressed hurriedly, the clattering of cutlery and voices downstairs rising up the stairwell. Warm winds passed through along with the sun, its rays illuminating the parade of Kyle's creatures on the sill, reflecting off of the unicorn and making it almost glow.

"You aren't still planning on skipping today, are you?" Kyle asked, giving Craig a solemn look as he pulled on his boots. He'd already put on his breeches and tunic, woven in the shade of clovers and complementing his red hair perfectly.

"You know I am," Craig replied, pulling on his own boots and tapping the front of one against the floor, adjusting the fit. "I've no mind for book learning or intellectual pursuits, Kyle; you know that. I'm not like you."

"But it's the last day," Kyle said, worrying his hands and watching Craig closely as he moved about. "I can't see why you don't just come along and finish the term with me. I don't like going by myself...it isn't the same without you."

Craig scoffed and rolled his eyes before reaching out and gently tousling Kyle's curls, feeling tender toward him but also mildly annoyed. Kyle was quickly taking on many of his mother's qualities, nagging among them, and he couldn't say he was overly fond of the development. He seemed to openly resent Craig's desire to move beyond the confines of the world they lived in, hungry to see what was beyond their front door; outward past the schoolhouse nestled in the woods.

"You'll be fine, just like always," Craig replied, turning toward the door. "You'll take your rightful place at the head of the class and I'll be out enjoying our last day of freedom, such as it is."

"Don't remind me," Kyle moaned, following behind him. "Working in the fields all summer, I can hardly wait."

Trooping down to the kitchen, Craig quickly swiped a muffin from the basket on the table, giving the Mistress Broflovski his most winning smile when she turned to him, frowning deeply. Her face was red and sweating from standing before the cauldron, the stench of lye and goose fat permeating the air. She was always in a bad mood on soap-making day, but Craig couldn't help but think that her stern countenance went beyond that. They hadn't exactly been on the best of terms lately, especially after she'd caught wind of Craig's forays into the village tavern and the brothel besides.

"Morning, ma'am," he said, tweaking a lock of Ike's dark hair as he sat at the oaken table eating a bowl of porridge. "You're looking fetching this morning, I must say."

"Bite your tongue, lad," she snapped, wiping moisture from her brow. "I've no intention of raising up liars. You'd do well to keep that in mind." Glancing at Kyle, her expression softened. "I've laid your slate and books by the door, child. Are you ready for the last day?"

Kyle plucked up a muffin as well and took a bite, considering her question.

"I suppose," he replied, catching Craig's eye for a moment, a fleeting look of sadness passing through his expression. "I'm still at the top of the class in all of my subjects."

"I would expect nothing less," his mother beamed, going back to the cauldron and stirring it with a heavy wooden paddle. "You're just like your father when it comes to such things, always with his eyes in a book." She gave Craig a look, her bearing becoming decidedly less indulgent. "And how are you fairing in your studies? You've not had much to report, I've noticed."

Craig shrugged while finishing off the muffin, snatching another up.

"What is there to say? I'm not as smart as Kyle when it comes to academics; I'd rather work with my hands."

"That's all well and good," she replied, arching a brow, "but that doesn't mean you shouldn't try, and it also doesn't give you freedom to waste your time and money down at the tavern. Or the brothel," she added, sneering. "You'll bring shame upon our clan with such behavior."

"I am not of your clan," Craig muttered, already making his way toward the door. He was tired of being penalized by the woman, whom he knew did it because she cared but that didn't change the fact that he would not allow himself to be controlled; not by her, not by anyone.

"You're a part of this family, whether you like or respect it," she called after him, an edge in her voice that made him grit his teeth. "And that means that you should conduct yourself with dignity. Do you understand?"

Placing his hand on the door latch, he turned to her, the smile gone from his face entirely. Kyle was watching the exchange with an anxious expression, his pretty face darkening as he regarded Craig. Vague guilt lanced through Craig's blood but he ignored it, drawing himself to his full height.

"I'm a Tucker," he replied, beginning to draw the door open, golden sunlight falling across the wooden floor. "And I will follow my own rules, regardless of what you say. Good day."

Stepping out of the cottage, he caught Kyle's eye before turning away, the early morning breezes sifting through his hair as he walked; the forest looming before him and deluged in cool, dark shadows.

\-----

"Why must you always be at odds with her?" Kyle gasped out as he overtook Craig, his books and slate clutched in his hand along with his tin lunch pail. "She means well, Craig."

"I'm sure she does," Craig replied, continuing to stride through the forest as Kyle struggled to keep up with him, his short legs working double-time. "I don't have anything against your mother, Kyle, but we're never going to see eye to eye."

"She just wants what's best for you," Kyle said, panting softly. "At least I think so."

"She's disappointed that I'm not like you, smart and obedient. What a pity."

"I'm not obedient," Kyle argued, his cheeks reddening noticeably, even in the midst of the shadowed forest. "I just don't want to make trouble for anyone."

"That's called being obedient," Craig laughed, bumping Kyle with his shoulder. "Such a good little boy, aren't you?"

"Stop teasing me!" Kyle suddenly shouted, stopping in his tracks. Craig turned, surprised; just staring at him. "I'm sick of you treating me with disregard, Craig!"

Not sure how to respond, Craig ambled up to Kyle slowly, his eyes traveling over the diminutive figure clothed in pretty green, large eyes flashing with obvious anger, but he was surprised to see a muted sadness there as well. He suddenly had the desire to stroke the boy's smooth cheek, sooth him in a way that went beyond mere words, but he didn't dare. He knew that such an action would only reinforce Kyle's obvious longing, and he didn't want to confuse the situation further, though he couldn't deny that Kyle was fetching, especially when he was working himself into a passion.

"You're the only person in the world I don't want to treat with disregard," he admitted, his focus passing over Kyle's pink lips and resting there, imagining what they tasted like; crazy impulses coming to mind that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day. "I actually give a damn about you, Kyle. You know that."

"Do I?" He asked, biting his bottom lip and calling attention to just how plump it was, almost like a ripe, sweet strawberry. "You're always running off to be by yourself or to go into the village, to the...to..."

He broke off, but they both knew what word was alluding him; the weight of it hanging in the air: to the brothel, to the whores waiting there and receiving their guests in the red-tinged darkness.

"Sometimes I feel like I need to escape, Kyle," Craig said, softly. He looked around at the forest encroaching on them, knowing that the walls of the village weren't far behind, looming up tall and thick and fairly blotting out the sky. Sometimes they felt so close he could hardly breathe, and he could only imagine running as far away as his legs would take him. But he didn't expect Kyle to understand that, having been raised behind the walls and relying on them; their protection, their promises of safety.

"I know," Kyle replied, taking a deep breath and stepping forward slightly. "But I wish you didn't want to run away from me, too."

"Who says I do?" Craig asked, shaking his head and smiling now. Clearly, Kyle was in a melancholy, pensive mood; begging for reassurance. Craig wasn't sure how to give it to him, though, not without crossing over a line that he just couldn't see fit to approach; not yet, not here in this place.

"Why do you go to them, Craig?" Kyle asked, lowly. "What do they have to offer?"

"Are you talking about...?"

"I've heard they have diseases," Kyle continued, still biting at his bottom lip. "What if they made you sick? Aren't you worried about that?"

Now Craig couldn't help himself, and he was gathering Kyle into his arms and holding him close, relishing in his warmth and his soft, innocent smell; of apples and spice, sweet but not cloying. He seemed so young and naive in moments like these, and Craig knew that he couldn't explain the way it felt to be with a woman, a stranger, in the darkness of the bordello; not knowing the other person's name but becoming lost in them anyway. He didn't find love under the sheets of a whore's bed, but he could find a distraction from the small, stifling reality he was trapped in, couldn't he? How could Kyle, innocent Kyle, understand that? He wasn't meant for places like that; he belonged in the light, and Craig wanted to protect him from the darker parts of himself.

"You don't need to worry about me," he sighed, pressing his cheek against Kyle's curls and closing his eyes. "If anyone's going to be protected, it's you, okay? Don't concern yourself with ugly things...you're too good."

"I-I don't understand," Kyle replied, pressing himself closer against Craig, a bold action that was contrary to his usual timidness. He seemed to be softening in Craig's arms, noticeably taken aback at the sudden, unexpected contact.

"Just go ahead to the schoolhouse," Craig murmured, his sharp ears picking up the toll of Master Garrison's bell in the distance. Pulling away, he settled his hands on Kyle's shoulders. "I'll meet you afterward and walk you home. Let's meet at our usual spot."

"What will you do, though?" Kyle asked, looking into Craig's eyes. The anger had evaporated but the sadness was still present, almost appearing to strengthen. "Don't go to the brothel, Craig. Please? I worry about what'll happen to you there...that you'll get hurt."

The unspoken truth hung in the air between them, heavy and almost hot, but Craig refrained from mentioning it. He knew that Kyle was concerned for his welfare, but on the heels of the worry was something else entirely, potent and almost sinister: jealousy and such a deep wanting that it was almost painful. Kyle had to realize that his secret wasn't a secret to anyone anymore, but he left it alone. There were just so many subjects Craig couldn't broach because he just didn't know what to do with them, mainly because his own feelings were such a tangle, almost impossible to sift through.

"I'll go to the tavern," he conceded, brushing some curls out of Kyle's pleading eyes. "And then I'll go to the pond or something." Reaching into his pockets, he drew out some smooth wood and his knife. "I was thinking of starting on another creature for you. Would you like that?"

Kyle nodded, the sadness lifting from his eyes little by little, a slow smile appearing on his mouth.

"I would love that," he said, reaching into his lunch pail. "Here," he added, handing a perfect, red apple to Craig. "Mother always packs too much."

"You don't need to give me your food," Craig replied, holding up the apple and giving Kyle a wry smile. "I already told you you don't have to worry about me."

"I know," Kyle said, tucking a curl behind his ear, his cheeks still flushed pink. "But I want to, I can't help it."

\------

The tavern's sign, sun-damaged but still legible, was creaking in the winds as Craig approached the building, the words 'Tail of the Fox Tavern' swirling in black across the dilapidated boards. Simply called 'The Tail' to its patrons, the understated establishment almost acted as the heart of the village, quickly becoming a hub for entertainment and gossip, attracting all types with promises of drink and various other vices. When Craig stepped into its hushed, dim confines, he immediately began to relax, meandering over to the bar and taking a seat.

"The usual?" The barkeep asked, appraising Craig with flat eyes. "You've money, right?"

"Of course," Craig replied, throwing a copper down. "And, aye, the usual. I don't need anything fancy."

"We don't dabble in fancy, anyway," the barkeep replied, sliding a pint of ale across the wood while swiftly collecting the waiting currency.

"You don't say," Craig muttered, taking a sip of the bitter ale and grimacing slightly. Settling his elbows on the bar, he began to drink and drift, the sounds of the other patrons reaching his ears but not registering as he sunk into his thoughts. A sudden commotion in the corner briefly caught his attention, though, and he turned to see a card game in the process of breaking apart. A slender man stood from the table abruptly, throwing his hands up.

"I'll not play with a bevy of snakes in the grasses! You're all louts and imbeciles, says I!"

A larger man who'd been picking at his teeth with a knife scoffed before bringing the weapon down, impaling the table

"Nobody likes a sore loser, McCormick. Off with ye until you can learn to play or take your lumps like a man. Am I right, lads?" He looked around at the rest of the group who emphatically agreed, all of them clutching at cards or pints respectively. The one they called McCormick clucked his tongue and shoved his chair under the table, beginning to turn away before stopping and grinning.

"I'll see you lot on the morrow, mayhap?"

The large man ripped the knife from the table and resumed picking at his teeth with it before waving him off.

"Aye, we'll be here, waiting to take more money from your pockets."

"I'll get you one of these days, mark my words," McCormick chuckled before stepping away. Looking up, he caught Craig's eye and his grin widened further. "Tucker, fancy seeing you here on such a fine day." He glanced around, the smile dropping from his mouth swiftly. "Where be Kyle?"

"The schoolhouse," Craig replied before going back to his ale. After a moment, he felt movement beside him as McCormick took a seat at the bar as well. "Shouldn't you be attending to your studies as well, Kenneth?"

"You know we're in the throes of planting season," he replied, nodding to the barkeep who brought him a pint. "My pap needs me about the farm to help. And don't call me Kenneth, you know I hate it."

"Well, I'm not calling you McCormick, _Kenny_ ," Craig said, studying the boy's face as he drank deeply, one blue eye obscured with a heavy, black eye patch. His hair was the color of gold and windswept, his skin darkly tanned; large hands covered over with calluses and scars from a life spent working out-of-doors. "And if you've been helping your pap then what are you doing here? Certainly not working."

"I could ask you the same thing, lad," he chuckled, guzzling the ale until the pint was half-empty. "It's just a pity you aren't here with Kyle. At least he has a face worth looking at, not that you've ever appreciated it."

"Mind your tongue," Craig growled, clenching his own ale until his knuckles whitened. He loathed the way the boy talked about Kyle so casually, almost like he had a right to him; always making Craig's protective instincts flair up. "You're in no position to make statements like that."

Snorting, Kenny finished off his pint before swiping a dirty arm across his mouth.

"You always seem to forget that I've been Kyle's friend since we were babes, toddling around in the dirt. Anyway," he sighed, resting his chin in his hand, "what are you doing wiling away the day here? Won't the Mistress Broflovski tan your hide if she finds out you're drinking the devil's nectar instead of laboring over your books?"

"That old harpy has no say over what I do," Craig muttered, throwing another copper on the bar and gesturing to the barkeep. "Those days are over."

"Aye, but you're still living under her roof and eating her food, are you not?" Kenny asked, tapping the rim of his empty glass. "Have some respect for your elders, sir."

"I'll not be feeding from her resources for much longer, I wager," Craig said, drinking deeply of his freshened libation. "After this summer I'll be in the wind."

Kenny laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, shaking his head.

"I'll believe that when I see it. I've half a mind to visit the brothel this afternoon. Will you attend?"

Craig shook his head reluctantly, remembering his promise to Kyle; the sad look registering in those forest green eyes.

"I told Kyle I wouldn't," he admitted, incensed at the slow flush gathering in his cheeks. "I intend to keep that promise."

Kenny gave him a slow, knowing smile, his one good eye snapping with a strange fire.

"I'm convinced he's the only force in the heavens or Hell that can keep you away from a whore's bed." He shook his head. "And yet you want to abandon him in a summer's time. Your cruelty is boundless, methinks."

"It isn't cruelty," Craig said, taking another long pull on his ale. "I just need to see for myself the worlds beyond this one. Haven't you ever wondered what's out there?"

"Oh, I know what's out there," Kenny replied, his tone darkening slightly. "I'm at home in the forests beyond the wall, you know that."

"Fools rush in where angels fear to tread and all that," Craig replied, rolling his eyes. He knew that Kenny spoke the truth, of course. Over the years, he'd noticed that the boy had an almost unsettling bravery when it came to the dark woods looming beyond the village, acting as a scavenger and rogue on behalf of the McCormick clan. The tales he brought back of the horrors and wonders waiting in the hushed trees had always filled Craig with a burning curiosity, but coupled with it was a deep fear that shamed him mercilessly.

"I mislike the feeling in the air these days," Kenny continued, giving Craig a pointed look, the set of his mouth becoming grim. "I sense something on the wind that I've never come across before, ever since that fortuneteller came to the village."

Memories flooded in of the fortuneteller Kenny spoke of, with her ageless face and strange eyes. Her prediction came to Craig's mind as well, of a blonde-haired temptress in Kyle's future and trials to endure. The thought filled him with an inexplicable fury.

"Charlatan," he muttered. "I've had more than enough of her ilk."

"I would heed her words if she's seen fit to share them with you," Kenny warned. "I sense something genuine in her."

"You would," Craig replied, finishing up his pint and going to stand. "You're always three sheets to the wind, after all. I can see to my own affairs, I'll have you know."

"I take it you never become lonely, what with your hubris acting as your constant companion," Kenny snickered, brushing a hand through his hair. "Well, I'm sure you'll take what I say with a grain of salt, but even I am wary of the forests currently. Until the wind changes I'll be keeping a wide berth. I'd behoove you to do the same."

Craig waved him off as he righted his tunic, the ale wafting through his blood and making him comfortably drowsy.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, making his way to the exit. "Enjoy the brothel for the both of us, by the way. I'll be there in spirit, rest assured."

\------

The rest of the warm, hazy afternoon stretched on as Craig sat on the banks of the river, alternating between watching the clouds drifting by and slowly carving the block of wood. Before too long, the shape of a sphinx sprung from beneath his fingers, the haunches of a lion and the face of a human. He was about to start on its wings when a wave of fatigue made him set his tools aside, and he plucked the lovely red apple from his pocket that Kyle had given him. Shining it on his tunic, Craig gazed at it softly for a moment before taking a large bite, its sweet juices coursing over his tongue and calling to mind the redhead's comforting aroma. Sighing, he leaned back against the large beech tree that overlooked the river, recognizing it as the tree he and Kyle had climbed on his birthday, where he'd gifted him with the unicorn.

The heavy hum of insects in the long, perfumed grasses began to lull Craig as he ate the apple and wondered what Kyle was doing in that moment. No doubt he was laboring over his studies and becoming lost in the written word, having always had a mind for such matters. He often thought that that was part of the reason Kyle wasn't overly interested in escaping the confines of the village. Whenever he needed to fly away, he simply opened a book and he was transported to lands beyond, his mind traveling over the wall to parts unknown. Craig wished that he could escape in flights of fancy as easily as his stepbrother but his mind just didn't work that way, too easily becoming mired in reality.

"Maybe I could talk him into coming along with me when I leave," he murmured, taking the last bite of fruit and pitching the core into the grass. Sliding down the trunk of the tree, he closed his eyes and began to drift, imagining he and Kyle walking away from everything and starting a new life elsewhere. He smirked softly before sleep claimed him, knowing in his heart that it would be like moving heaven and earth to get Kyle to leave his family behind, but that didn't stop him from considering the possibility. After all, he intended to leave either way, but it would be ideal if he could run away with the redhead, knowing in his heart that he would be the only thing he'd miss, even a little.

The sun was hanging lower in the sky when he awoke later, the blue having become duskier as afternoon started winding down. There was a heaviness to the air that seemed to speak of tension or impending rainfall, and as Craig wiped drool from the corner of his mouth, he realized that he hadn't woken up naturally, no, there had been a catalyst. Vague, gentle music was settling on the breeze and being carried to his ears, wrapping around him like a satin ribbon and arresting his attention immediately. Taking care to gather up his knife and wood, Craig stood and looked around, trying to pinpoint where the melody was coming from, but he couldn't place it.

"I'm probably just hearing things," he said, beginning to follow the direction of the music, his boots whispering through soft grasses. He stopped, checking the sun again and considering the time. Kyle would be expecting him soon and he didn't want to be late, knowing that the redhead would worry over him.

The music seemed to pick up in volume as his hesitation grew, and before Craig could really give it much thought, his feet were moving again, more swiftly now. It was almost like his brain was being overtaken by the sound and filling with a strange perfume as he wandered away from the river, limbs beginning to loosen and relax with every step. The notes of the song were bittersweet and tore at his heart with a vague sense of longing that he'd never felt before, and he realized with some certainty that he was listening to a harp being plucked. Passing through the fragrant, shaded forest he came upon the outskirts of the village proper, but the music didn't stop there. No, it beckoned him to pass through the looming gates of the great wall beyond, to step outside of civilization and keep going.

His senses seemed to return momentarily and he shook his head, trying to come back to himself; tearing his focus from the music's haunting pull. He hadn't been outside of the wall by himself since his family had been torn apart years before, and a slow horror was dawning within him as he considered confronting the open world. Anger rose within him at the fear, though, and he chastised himself for being a coward. He kept promising himself that he'd leave this place as soon as he had the chance, and yet here he was practically shaking at the notion of walking through the gates. He thought of Kenny's words, his warning, to keep his distance from the forests waiting outside the walls but he pushed them away. Craig Tucker wasn't a milksop, and he would not be held at bay by his own fears or the fears of others.

Feeling at his waist for the large knife he always carried, sheathed in leather, Craig began to walk slowly toward the gate. The music swelled with each step he took, pulling him until he was almost certain he wouldn't be able to stop even if he wanted to. Coming upon the entrance to the village, he was weary of the guards who always kept watch, but was relieved to see them both snoozing softly at their posts, the late-afternoon breezes ruffling their hair. Passing through on kitten feet, Craig's heartbeat picked up its rhythm as the distance between himself and the village grew, and a strange, potent excitement was coursing through his blood; buzzing in his ears. The fear was abating now as excitement and curiosity arrested him, and he began to hurry towards the music, building and drifting on the winds.

His eyes strayed momentarily toward the outskirts of the forest, where his family's hut had once stood before everything ended in a cataclysmic moment. He often wondered if there were any remnants left of his clan but he didn't dare visit the grounds, afraid of what he might find. The hut had been torched and the animals snatched up, the fields scorched and decimated, but what if he found traces of blood even after so many years? Even an errant scrap of clothing or piece of pottery could be enough to destroy him, so he'd decided long ago to leave well enough alone, but still....

The gentle plucking of the instrument became almost a lullaby as Craig entered the imposing darkness of the forest, and immediately he could feel the difference in the air compared to the woods within the village walls. The heaviness of the atmosphere was more noticeable here, almost like he was being observed by an unseen force. The shadows seemed cooler too, more oppressive, and the trees denser. The sunlight was all but blotted out due to the thick leaves overhead, and aside from the music lulling him there was no discernible sound, the world seemingly holding its breath and waiting; watching. The path before him was overgrown and covered in pine needles that released clouds of spicy fragrance with every footfall, stinging his nose.

The forest had all but swallowed Craig up by the time the music became louder, its melodic strains possessing him fully now. His mind was falling into a warm complacent state as his feet carried him further from the light and the village. Fleeting thoughts of Kyle came to mind as he passed through shadows and avoided low-hanging tree boughs, but the redhead began to disappear along with any reluctance he might've felt. He needed to know the source of the phantom melody, his blood rushing hot with each passing moment. Strange visions began to bleed through his mind that left him breathless, his body waking up to an odd warmth seeping through his veins. Vaguely, he became aware that he was starting to feel the way he did before sliding into the slick wetness of a waiting whore, her panting mouth open as she gasped; taking her swiftly in the glow of firelight. Desire made his mouth begin to water, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides.

All at once, the trees were parting and opening upon a clearing complete with a dark pond, the water still as glass as the music continued to waft through the air. A shudder ran through Craig when he finally found its source: a pale maiden sitting atop a large rock at the water's edge, a lyre clutched in her hands. Almost dreamily, she stroked the instruments' strings, her eyes closed softly, and the sound seemed to soak into Craig's skin like rainwater, illuminating his senses and reinforcing the powerful lust beginning to consume him. If anything, just seeing the lass was enough to pull him from the trees and down to the bank of the pond, his boots seeping into the softened earth.

Without warning, the maiden's eyes lazily opened and she spied the boy watching her from across the water, and she smiled slowly. She had an elvish quality about her, with pearly skin and long ears, her hair falling in flaxen waves over delicate shoulders and pooling around her. She was clothed in a wispy gown that almost looked like it had been woven of moonlight, the fabric transparent and seemingly soft as a breath. It clung to her slender frame, so sheer that Craig's wandering eyes could see the hint of the slight curves waiting beneath.

Before he could even think of speaking, she set the instrument aside slowly, plunging the clearing into deep silence. Shaking out her hair, she slid to the edge of the rock she sat upon and dipped her bare feet into the water, creating ripples that fanned out in languid rings. Catching Craig's gaze fully, she blinked slanted blue eyes, almost seeming to trap him where he stood before she began to speak.

"The road kept winding through the prettiest country," she said, voice ethereal and sounding very similar to the music she'd been playing. "I kept following it until I found my way here."

Feeling almost paralyzed by her voice, her eyes, her very presence, Craig was aware that his brain was dissolving into a fog as she considered him. There was something about her, something familiar, that drew him in and wouldn't let him turn away. Her pale skin and woebegone expression reminded him of something he desired deeply, though he couldn't or wouldn't admit what that something was, but a longing was waking up in his heart and almost burning him. Who was she? Where had she come from?

"You've a strange manner of speaking," he finally said, his voice almost breaking the spell she'd woven by being too loud; it didn't seem to fit alongside hers. He tried to soften it, make it more inviting; clearing his throat. "You've inflections I've never heard before."

Giggling, she slid from the rock and into the water, barely creating a splash as her hair wafted upward and settled in waves on the pond's surface. She almost seemed to glow as she moved easily through the water, lithe body undulating as she drew closer to where Craig stood on the bank. Watching with hungry eyes, Craig waited for her to resurface and when she did, she rose slowly; clear water sluicing over her body and causing her gown to adhere to her form. She gathered her hair in her hands and pulled it over one milky shoulder, advancing on Craig in tiny steps as his breaths began to come quicker and quicker; hypnotized by what suddenly struck him as an other-worldly creature.

"I come from far away," she almost sighed, stopping a few feet away and letting loose her hair, allowing it to fall down her back; heavy and full with moisture. "From the cliffs by the sea." She stopped, studying him. "Have you seen the sea before?"

Craig shook his head, eyes trailing over her long limbs and practically beginning to shake with a deep, unyielding need. Pale skin beckoned to him, and he suddenly realized who she reminded him of, and the desire became that much more painful, impossible to ignore or deny. He stepped forward, aggression snaking through him that caught him by surprise.

"I've lived here my whole life," he admitted, wanting to stroke her face and tear her gown off in equal measures. He tried to control himself, his hands beginning to tremble; not feeling like himself. "And in all that time I've never seen anyone like you. At least, not really."

She studied him for a moment, a knowing realization seeping through her eyes like blood in still waters. Languidly, she reached up and began toying with the strap of her gown, sliding it along her clavicle until it dipped over her shoulder, falling.

"Your eyes give you away. Did you know that?" She murmured, biting at her bottom lip. His eyes caught on it, that ripe mouth, calling to mind sweet strawberries. Suddenly, unbidden, he could recall Kyle's sad eyes in his mind but he waved the memory away, wanting to focus on this moment, on the vision before him.

"Oh, and what are they saying?" He smirked, noticing smaller details about her now: faint dustings of freckles on her cheekbones and the gold flecks in her irises. She wasn't pretty in the traditional sense, not like Kyle, but she exuded an undeniable presence, a heat that he felt trapped in.

"That you want me," she replied, abruptly. Her pupils seemed to fatten at this utterance, her lids lowering slightly and giving her a sleepy, compliant appearance. Her posture relaxed, almost like she was subliminally begging to be taken, at least that was the way Craig interpreted it. "You do, don't you?"

_Beware of a blonde-haired temptress._

The sudden, unexpected words of the fortuneteller rung through Craig's mind as soon as he dared take a step closer to the siren, making him take pause. For a moment, he came back to himself and managed to resist her pull, trying to consider the ramifications of what he was intending to do.

"What are you?" He asked, already feeling his strength weaken as he watched a pink blush crest on her cheeks, her small tongue lapping at her succulent mouth.

"Come to me and find out," she beckoned, stepping so close that he could feel the warmth pouring from her, like fire rushed through her veins instead of blood.

Almost feeling he was acting on pure animal instinct alone, Craig growled low in his throat before pulling the creature to him, pressing his hungry mouth against hers, and he sighed at her sweetness; tongue sneaking between her lips and tasting her secrets. She fairly melted into him, pressing her slight body against his, and he was surprised at the lack of softness he felt in her, his hands gripping her arms and feeling the bones beneath her skin. Her aroma called to mind visions of wild things waiting in forgotten forests, of savage storms and green grass warming in the sun. He almost felt like he was cradling something born at the beginning of the world, and as he kissed her deeply his mind began to wander and become lost in her.

 _She feels like him_ , he thought, stroking a hand through her hair, fingers tangling in the waves. _Is this what he would taste like, too?_

Continuing to feast on her lips, Craig trailed kisses over her jaw and down her throat as he pulled her to the ground, the soft grasses cradling her as she stretched out, eyes hazy as Craig dragged a hand up her leg. Sliding his fingers under her wisp of a gown, he nearly trembled at the softness of her flesh, and before too long he was clutching at her naked hip, discovering that she was naked beneath her scant clothing. His mouth watered at the angular hip bone beneath his fingers, and gulping he trailed his touch to her pubis, her eyes darkening and finally closing as she arched into his touch. With baited breath, he slid his hand downward, fully expecting the heat he typically found between a woman's legs, but his eyes shot open in surprise when something unfamiliar slid beneath his palm.

"W-what -" he stammered, yanking his hand away before pulling up the gown completely, revealing the stiffening flesh of a young man. Craig's mouth went dry as he stared, the boy beneath him watching him with interest before beginning to giggle, clutching a hand to his mouth.

"I thought you realized," he purred, placing his own hand on himself and stroking gently. "Do you not like what you see?"

Craig shook his head, hardly believing what he was seeing.

"Is this some kind of trick?" He asked, becoming aware of fine threads of anger lancing through his blood. "Are you trying to make a fool of me?"

"Not at all," the boy said, taking a hold of Craig's tunic and pulling softly, full mouth pouting. Sitting up, he boldly licked Craig's bottom lip before pulling away with a coquettish smile. "I can still make your body sing. Wouldn't you like to feel it for yourself?"

Now Craig's mind was completely arrested by thoughts of Kyle, only he was taking the place of the boy before him, scarlet locks drenching the green grasses as he waited for Craig to claim him. He'd never dared to touch Kyle the way he was touching this boy, but maybe this would at least provide a taste of what he'd been depriving himself of. Visions of taking the boy and making him his own, at least for a moment, filtered into his mind as he suddenly reached out and ripped the gown from his body, the material tearing away easily.

"Oh," the boy breathed, curling back onto the ground and watching Craig with famished eyes. "I've angered you, have I?"

"I'm only taking what you promised," Craig replied, parting the boy's thighs and stroking his thumbs over the soft skin between them. Closing his eyes, it was almost like he was touching Kyle, and he'd almost convinced himself that the hungry pants breaking the air were the redhead's, practically begging for Craig to be quick and take what he wanted, what he so wanted to give.

 _He's too innocent for this_ , he thought, running his tongue up the slender abdomen quivering beneath him. Nipping lightly at a soft, white neck, Craig suckled at the fragrant skin of the boy's throat, hands exploring in places he'd only dreamed of before. _He's always been too good for any of this, for me._

The boy was drooling and pleading for Craig to take him before too long, and with deft fingers he began to push down his breeches. He trailed his eyes over the writhing creature crying for him when suddenly, a rush of overwhelming heat flamed at Craig's back, and he turned to see bright fire bloom like a red flower in the clearing. It seared the air and made it ripple, pushing Craig back as he shaded his eyes, pulling away from the boy and getting to his feet quickly. After the fires smoldered away, the brightness finally died down enough for Craig to see what had caused the inferno, and when he looked up he was taken aback to see a man standing there, clothed all in black; raven-haired and pale of skin. The man stared at him with fathomless eyes, pulsing red and black in a lean, handsome face.

"You've made a grievous mistake, my lad," the man spoke, carefully, every word measured and precise in the heavy silence. His voice was jagged and beautiful like discordant music playing late at night, dripping from his tongue like rich wine. "A very grievous mistake indeed."

Immediately, Craig's hand went to the dagger at his side but the man chuckled, shaking his head.

"You'd do well not to threaten me with a mere toy such as that," he said, eyes burning as he advanced on Craig and the lad still nestled on the grass. He gazed up at the man with a resigned expression, suddenly pressing his decimated gown against his nakedness. The man cut his gaze to him, frowning deeply. "You've wandered far from home, little one."

The boy stood, his slim limbs shining even in the gloom. Almost like he'd been silently called, he immediately went to the man and stood before him, bowing his head. The man sighed softly before tangling his fingers in his long pale hair, stroking through it gently. After a moment, though, he yanked on it, the boy soundlessly falling to his knees and being pulled to rest his head against the man's leg, blue eyes becoming blank as he fixed them on Craig's face.

"So, you think you've a right to the possessions of others?" The man asked, continuing to pet the boy as he studied Craig with an inscrutable countenance.

Craig could only stare at the nauseating display taking place before him, shaking his head and trying to make sense of what he was seeing and hearing.

"No, I -"

"You've defiled what belongs to me," the man cut him off, holding up a long, elegant hand. He'd high cheekbones and dark stubble lacing his cheeks, his dark hair falling over his forehead. Attired in a black cloak, he resembled a tensed, waiting panther, his very presence giving off waves of malevolence. "You've touched something that isn't to be touched by anyone but myself. How will you answer for it?"

Hanging his head, Craig looked at the ground, overwhelmed now by the rage evident in the man's demeanor. Shutting his eyes, he berated himself cruelly in his mind, for not heeding Kenny's warnings, for not listening to the fortuneteller's prophecy. How could he have been so foolish as to fall for the wiles and seductions of the boy kneeling at the dark's man's feet, eyes empty like they weren't even capable of sight? Throwing his dignity aside, he lifted his head and tried to appeal to the man, his back straight and trying to adopt a tone of conviction.

"I will do whatever I can to make up for what I've done," he said, fully intending to pay back any debt he had accrued. His father had taught him that a man always stood by his word and atoned for his sins, and that's exactly what he was going to do. He didn't want to forsake the man's memory by not living up to his teachings. "I promise."

"Ah, is that so?" The man smiled, his cruel mouth revealing sharp, curved canines that flashed. Glancing down at the boy huddled beside him, a look of devious pleasure flashed through his face before he met Craig's eyes once more. "If that is the case, then I only ask that you repay your trespass with the exact thing that's been taken from me."

"W-what do you mean?" Craig asked, faltering now as he struggled to understand what was being asked of him, though a nagging suspicion was beginning to gnaw at his stomach.

The man began to wind a strand of flaxen hair round and round his finger as he spoke, his voice smoky notes on the air. The boy whimpered softly when his hair was yanked on, but he stayed still, the very picture of docile obedience.

"You will bring to me the person you care for more than any other," the man explained, eyes glimmering wickedly. "And if I find them worthy of my company, your debt shall be paid."

Craig staggered like he'd been struck, his heart pounding at the cold and calculating finality of the man's demand.

"I couldn't!" He yelled, defiantly. "I won't!"

Throwing the boy aside, the man swiftly marched up to Craig before he could move away, quickly drawing a silver dagger from his side and lifting Craig's shirt. Within the blink of an eye, he slashed the weapon across his exposed abdomen, eliciting a howl of pain from Craig. He dropped to his knees and clutched at himself as the blood began to pour, wetting the grass beneath him.

"That wound I've given you," he seethed, wiping the dagger off on his cloak and sheathing it, "will fester and eventually consume you if you refuse to comply." Kneeling down, he tugged Craig's chin up so that they were eye to eye, his irises pulsing like heartbeats in the pale sheet of his face. "I will give you two days, lad, to bring me what I've asked for." Licking along his bottom lip, he smiled, the action exceedingly grotesque and making Craig's blood grow cold.

"Make your choice carefully," he said, letting go of Craig and standing, leaving him to writhe on the ground. "Otherwise, your death will not be merciful, I can promise you that. I will make sure that you suffer."

\------

It was with a pain-wracked, shuffling gait that Craig was finally able to collect himself enough to drag himself from the depths of the forest, long after the man and his boy disappeared back into the crackling flames from whence they came. Before making his departure, Craig had done the best he could to wash the blood from his tunic and the weeping, pulsing wound on his abdomen, but the pain was so intense that he could barely focus, let alone move.

His tired mind was overrun with terror and rage as he slowly approached the spot where he'd promised to meet Kyle, praying that he was still there to receive him. The sun was sliding below the horizon now, bloated and full like a salmon's egg as it declined; purple shadows crawling across the ground ahead of him. Stars came to dot the sky as night grew nigh, and he knew that he was hours late, no doubt causing Kyle to fret terribly over his whereabouts.

As he came upon their meeting place, Craig was both relieved and dismayed to see Kyle waiting for him under the large oak resting on the edge of the forest. He was seated in the grass, his legs tucked to his chest and his cheek resting on his knee, hugging himself tightly. The dying sunlight caught in his hair and made him gleam like a beacon in the gathering twilight, and for a moment just the sight of him made Craig's breath catch in his throat, guilt plaguing him as the distance between them lessened.

 _How can I tell him about any of this?_ He asked himself, wincing as his wound throbbed beneath his clothing, feeling hot and swollen.

Drawing closer, Kyle suddenly looked up, his eyes wide as they fell on Craig. Jumping to his feet, he ran to him, taking a hold of his tunic and looking into his face, his gaze searching.

"Where were you?" He asked, hands clenching tightly. "I was worried, Craig...it's already so late." He stopped, studying Craig's face. "Did something happen? You're so pale."

Craig shook his head before smiling softly, his hand coming to rest on Kyle's cheek and caressing the soft skin there, his thumb trailing over his cheekbone.

"I'm fine," he lied, the words seeping like poison on his tongue. "I lost track of time and fell asleep by the river. I'm sorry I've kept you waiting."

Still appearing suspicious, Kyle worried Craig's tunic between his fingers, frowning suddenly.

"'Tis damp," he commented, softly. "Did you go swimming?"

"Aye," Craig said, averting his eyes, nearly becoming lost in the green irises appraising him with so much trust. "It was so hot today, I couldn't resist."

Kyle bit his lip before drawing closer, his warmth bleeding through Craig's sodden clothes and affording him fleeting comfort. The throbbing of his secret wound abated for a moment, and he nearly sighed at this brief respite.

"Did you go anywhere else today?" Kyle asked, nearly whispering now. "Or did you just go to the river?"

"Look at me," Craig said, still cupping Kyle's face, their gazes converging. "I kept my promise to you, okay? You believe me, don't you?"

Kyle nodded, almost appearing shy now as a slight flush colored his cheeks. Pure happiness flitted across his face at Craig's words, nearly serving to break his heart in two.

"Tell me all about your day," he said, suddenly taking a hold of Craig's arm and beginning to pull him toward home. "Don't leave out a thing, okay?"

Craig sighed, falling into step beside his stepbrother as his stomach sank, the weight of unspoken words nearly rendering his tongue useless.

"What would you like to know?"

Kyle thought a moment, pressing closer to Craig's side, his step light.

"Did you have a chance to work on a new carving for me? I thought about it all day, what you'll make for me next."

Smiling, Craig dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the half-fashioned sphinx, its face inscrutable and suddenly reminding him of the fortuneteller and the warnings he'd ignored. His stomach twisted, both from deep guilt and the pain coursing through his flesh.

"Oh, it's wonderful," Kyle breathed, taking the creature into his hand and studying it with pleasure. "It looks just like the sphinx from the book father brought home not so long ago. I couldn't imagine what it'd be like to meet a beast such as that, and being forced to answer one of its riddles. Can you?"

Craig shook his head and wordlessly slid the figure back into his pocket, wanting to clutch at his aching stomach but managing to refrain. All at once, orange lights began to bloom on the horizon as bonfires were lit one by one, jumping against the darkness still falling. It was a tradition that happened in the village every year, the fires lit to herald the coming of summer and the changing of the season.

"The solstice is tomorrow," Kyle murmured, leaning his head against Craig's arm. "The longest day of the year." Looking out across the fields, he sighed softly, happily. "Have you any plans after helping out in the fields?"

Surprising even himself, Craig blurted out the first thing that came to mind, desperately trying to alleviate his deep, unyielding guilt.

"Let's spend the day together. The whole day," he said, glancing down at Kyle and wanting to hold him close, wanting nothing more than to protect him from the ugliness of the world. "What do you say?"

Kyle tucked a curl behind his ear and looked at the ground, almost appearing bashful.

"That would make me happier than anything in the world," he said, holding Craig's arm a fraction tighter. "I just wish tomorrow was already here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would anyone like to hazard a guess as to who the blonde-haired temptress is? Oh, and his savage Master? xD


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings (except for hopeless sentimentality, I'm afraid. Forgive me, you guys xD). 
> 
> This is kind of the calm before the storm, I suppose. Hopefully you guys don't find it boring, but it was super fun to write, I can't lie. I'm really enjoying getting to research medieval stuff for this story (customs, foods, etc), even though I'm taking everything w/ a grain of salt, of course. lmao, if you're looking for accuracy I can assure you you're looking in the wrong place. I'm having a good time developing the characters, at any rate, so this chapter will be heavy on building them up (I hope). I've had criticism in the past about how I portray Kyle but I really like playing up his cute/vulnerable/self-sacrificing side...what can I say, I just think he's cute as a damn button. xD
> 
> Anyway, ENJOY <3
> 
> PS: Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter, you guys. It was amazing and lit a fire under me to write - i really appreciate it!!
> 
> PPS: KarenR2 drew some *amazing* fan art for this story:
> 
> http://oftextbooksandcoffee.tumblr.com/post/183912553434/fanart-for-jwink85s-fanfic-ribbon-of
> 
> Check it out - it's absolutely gorgeous. *fans self* I can't get over it, honestly. <3

**Ribbon of darkness over me**  
**Since my true love walked out the door**  
**Tears I never had before**  
**Ribbon of darkness over me**  
  
Clouds a-gatherin' o'er my head  
**That kill the day and hide the sun**  
**That shroud the night when day is done**  
**Ribbon of darkness over me**

  **-Ribbon of Darkness, Gordon Lightfoot**

* * *

Craig was too wracked with pain and worry to sleep that night, though he tossed and turned for what felt like hours. When he finally gave up slumber as a lost cause and rose from his bed, he saw that the moon had shifted dramatically in the sky, hovering very near to the horizon; morning was drawing nigh. He could hear the rustle of the night creatures in the trees outside the window, dark wings and predators on the move, and every sound seemed to be magnified in his state of distress. Even the wind seemed ominous, stirring through the room and ruffling Kyle's hair as he slept soundly; deep, even breaths wafting into the still air.

Moving carefully, Craig slid on his boots, wincing as the wound on his abdomen throbbed and ached. Resting a hand against it, he cringed at the warmth radiating through his tunic, knowing full and well that what the man had threatened was coming to fruition : the strange slash was already beginning to fester. Glancing over at Kyle, Craig's heart lurched in his chest to see his peaceful face slightly flushed and splashed with his first summer freckles, appearing so innocent and none the wiser of the horrors converging on their lives. Kyle always fell asleep easily and never seemed to waken before the sun rose, but nighttime had always been difficult for Craig.

Fetching up his knife and the sphinx, Craig stole downstairs through the darkened kitchen, the wood still slowly smoldering in the hearth. The cottage was full of shadows as he passed through, the sounds of Master Broflovski's snoring permeating the quiet. Ike slept in his parents' room in a small trundle bed very near to his mother because he'd always been sickly; their room just off of the kitchen and plunged into darkness. Taking care to be as unobtrusive as possible, Craig slipped through the front door and into the waiting night, the chirping of insects hypnotic in the trees and grasses deluged in blue shadow.

Sighing, Craig could immediately feel some of the tension leaking from himself as he considered the shining moon, lit up like a monumental piece of silver in the sky. Sometimes it felt like the cottage was going to suffocate him, especially in the hours looming after midnight, and just being outside helped him catch his breath. His secret fears and agonies were still alive in his mind, but now he at least felt capable of _thinking_ , of making a plan. He found a soft patch of grass and sat, the light of the moon strong enough to guide his hands as he slowly began to work on his carving, the creature coming to life under his fingertips.

The circumstances he'd found himself in so quickly and without warning were like a nightmare unfolding. Over and over, the words of the horrible stranger rang through Craig's mind, of bringing him the one he cared for most. There was no question who that someone was, and the very thought of considering such a demand made him feel sick in the pit of his aching stomach. He could scarcely fathom the man's intentions, but he knew they had to be terrible. How could he possibly deliver someone he cared about into the hands of such obvious malevolence?

_I cannot_ , he thought resolutely, his deft hands carving away a curl of wood and flicking it into the grass. _I simply won't, no matter my fate._

If the man had asked for anything else, Craig had a feeling he would've been more than willing to comply, but what was being asked of him was too much. He knew that he was capable of treachery and callousness, but how could he direct those parts of himself toward the one who trusted and admired him so? It was cruelly unfair.

_Maybe I could offer up a substitute,_ he mused, continuing to methodically carve; fine wings coming to settle in the delicate wood. _Surely he wouldn't be able to tell if I handed over someone I didn't give a damn about...could he? Or what if I simply told him there's no one I care for in such a fashion?_

A sudden stab of pain lanced through his middle as he mulled over such an idea, and he knew in his heart that the man would be able to sniff out such subterfuge easily. He didn't know how he was privy to such knowledge but he could feel it to be the truth: the man would know, and would most likely punish him harshly as a result. Feeling even more grim, Craig silently continued to work on the figure as his mind raced with questions and half-baked solutions, none of which came even remotely close to satisfying him. Now and then, images of Kyle's face would break through his lamentations and he would feel sick, his whole body wracked with shame.

Finally, Craig could bear it no longer, his secret guilt, and he lay the wood and knife aside, clutching at his head and clenching his eyes shut. He almost wanted to weep tears of frustration but he refrained, having not truly cried in a very long time. The last time he had shed tears were over thoughts of his lost family, and even then he had been a child and had done it in private, always making sure no one could see him displaying his inner weaknesses.

_What will I do?_ He agonized, the thought becoming a plaguing mantra in his tired brain. _What will I do? What will I do? What will I do?_

"I take it you couldn't sleep," a tired voice asked suddenly, making Craig start. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Kyle standing there, hair mussed from sleep and attired in one of Craig's old tunics, his pale legs bare. He shivered, hugging himself and looking around. "'Tis a nice night to sit outside, but it's so late. Aren't you tired?"

Craig shook his head, almost smiling at the sight of Kyle's coltish legs in the moonlight. He looked so young standing there, green eyes muted from weariness; almost like a small child that had been awoken from a nightmare. Turning away, Craig looked up into the sky, his eyes drinking in the moon that was swiftly declining.

"My mind is heavy," he admitted, hugging his knees to his chest. "I was tired of lying there staring at the ceiling, so I came out here to think."

There was a rustling of footsteps through grass and then Craig felt a warm pressure against his back, Kyle's head coming to settle between his shoulder blades as he leaned against him. For a moment, his breath caught in his chest, his heartbeat increasing at the unexpected contact.

"I thought you'd gone to the privy and would be back shortly," Kyle said, softly. "I was waiting for you and when you didn't come back I became worried."

"You never wake up before the sun rises," Craig muttered, wanting to lean into Kyle's warmth and become lost for a little while, where his worries couldn't follow him. "What's different about tonight?"

He could feel Kyle shrugging, his heated cheek bleeding through his tunic and into his back; feeling it almost in his bones.

"The air felt different, off," he said, sighing a little. "I could tell that the room felt emptier and when I looked over you were gone. It was strange."

"The things you say," Craig shook his head, brushing his bangs from his eyes. "You're terribly whimsical, did you know that?"

Another shrug and then Kyle was shifting, his chin coming to rest on Craig's shoulder. He gestured to the knife and wood lying in the grass.

"Are you nearly done?"

Picking up the sphinx, Craig studied it, its inscrutable face only serving to wound him. It reminded him that he'd started this carving with a lighter heart, right before everything had been shattered as a result of his foolishness.

"I've the wings to finish," he murmured, a crazy impulse flaring in his heart at the notion of simply flying away. He tried to sound nonchalant when he spoke next, though his insides were quivering at the prospect he was considering. "If given the chance at leaving this place, would you take it?"

Kyle was silent for several moments, his sharp, little chin still nestled in the curve of Craig's shoulder. Night winds rustled the grasses, bringing with them scents of blooming jasmine and the bonfires still smoldering slowly in distant meadows.

"I don't know," Kyle said, his voice careful and slightly befuddled. "Where would I even go?"

"Anywhere," Craig replied, allowing his tone to become more animated. "Anywhere in the world...the sea, the great cities we've read about in your books...wherever you wanted."

"But, why? I like it here, Craig. This is our home, isn't it?"

Frustration mixed in with Craig's quiet terror, a vague hopelessness filling him at Kyle's words, his complacency. They'd always parted company on this topic, Craig's wanderlust and Kyle's incessant need to maintain the status quo, and usually he'd overlooked this divergence, but now there was so much at stake. How could he possibly make him understand?

"If I told you I was thinking of leaving tonight, would you go with me?" Craig asked, pulling away so that he could look into Kyle's eyes directly. He wasn't surprised to find confusion and worry within them.

"You don't mean that, do you?" Kyle crawled closer to him, sitting back on his heels, his hands resting softly in his lap. "Why would you leave? Has something happened?"

"You didn't answer my question," Craig replied, exasperated. "Would you come with me, yes or no?"

Instead of answering, Kyle looked toward the hushed cottage, its windows glinting squares of trapped moonlight. A look of longing passed over his face, tearing at Craig's heart and saying far more than words ever could. He sighed before smiling sadly, reaching up to flick Kyle's forehead.

"Home is where the heart is, I guess," he said. "You could never leave your family behind, could you?"

"They're your family, too," Kyle argued, rubbing his forehead. "Why do you always seem to forget that?"

"My kin could still be out there, Kyle," Craig replied, quietly; wanting to distract Kyle from the real issue plaguing him. "As kind as your brethren have been to me, they are not my blood. You and I," he gestured between them, "are not blood-bound. That changes things."

"Not in my mind," Kyle murmured, dropping his focus to the grass. "Please tell me you aren't going to leave, Craig."

"What if it were in your best interest?" Craig asked, biting his tongue before he could say more.

"Don't say that!" Kyle suddenly yelled, his eyes snapping up, twin green fires burning in them. "That could never be true!"

Craig smirked, reaching out to tousle Kyle's curls, the redhead snarling and pushing away from him.

"Spitfire," Craig said, his voice fond. "You know so little about the world, about the state of things."

"I'm not a child," Kyle snapped, righting his hair. "Don't speak to me like one, if you please."

For a moment, all they could do was regard one another as the moon continued to sink. After a while, it was merely a glimmer on the horizon as it made its full descent, and then a golden trickle of light appeared, the moon fully sun-slain.

"Morning always comes too early at times like this," Craig said, more to himself than to anyone else. Pulling his eyes from the shining crack running along the rim of the sky, he studied Kyle's weary face. "I wasn't trying to upset you, by the way."

"I just hate when you start talking that way," Kyle said, wrapping his arms about himself almost like he was feeling a chill. "I know you miss your kin, and I know that you still hope that your ma and sister are out there somewhere, but..." he bit his lip, worrying its pink fullness. "What if they aren't? Won't it break your heart all over again if you find that out? What's the point?"

Craig gave Kyle an impassive look as he stood, brushing off the seat of his breeches before offering him a hand.

"You'd go searching for your family in a heartbeat, I know you would," he said, helping Kyle to his feet. "If you had even a thread of hope, you'd cling to it, and it would sustain you to the ends of the world. Don't say it wouldn't."

"Maybe so, but I wouldn't just leave you behind," Kyle replied before coloring furiously, the orange-yellow light of the new sun washing over the forest now. It fell across his hair, making it flame brightly. Peering at Craig closely, his eyes narrowed. "You seem preoccupied, Craig. And," he paused, reaching up a hand and gently taking a hold of his face to keep him from turning away, "worried. You're worried about something, I can tell. What's going on?"

Hating the concern he saw in Kyle's expression, Craig jerked his face and stepped away, putting distance between them.

"I'm not worried about anything that should concern you," he said, trying to downplay the sudden edge in his tone but it broke through anyway. He hated having his back to the wall, and on some level he knew that opening up to Kyle may help, but what could he say? How could he possibly make him understand the severity of his actions? All he'd ever wanted to do was protect him but he'd failed terribly. He also felt stupid for even considering running away. What was that going to help? He'd been marked by that horrible man; there was no outrunning the wound burning on his belly.

"Come on," he said, gruffly. "Since we're already awake you can help me bring in the kindling so we can start the fire for your mother. She'll be getting up before too long, the early riser that she is."

"Yes, of course," Kyle said, following behind him. There was silence as they went to the woodpile before he timidly spoke again, his slight arms filled with sticks. "Did you still want to spend the day together?"

Wordlessly, Craig nodded his head as he gathered wood into his own arms, not having the heart or courage to look into Kyle's eyes; it just hurt too much. He wanted to spend every moment he could with Kyle, especially now; what with so many unknowns converging on them that he could scarcely fathom.

\-----

"Are you boys about ready to leave? I'll be done here before too long," Master Broflovski said, taking another bite of porridge as his wife bustled about, readying the lunch the three of them would eat while attending to the fields. In a cloth laid across the table she placed a loaf of bread, a rind of cheese, and three rosy apples; a jug of spring water sitting beside it. Tying it tightly, she set it before Kyle and gave his shoulder a pat, a warm smile on her face.

"Rest when you need to, lovey," she said, giving Craig a look as well. "What's wrong with you, lad? You've a strange look on thy face."

Grimacing against the pain in his abdomen, Craig shook his head and pushed away from the table, standing. Taking up the bag containing their lunch and the jug of water, he hurried to the door.

"I'm fine," he muttered, pulling it open. "I'll wait outside."

"Slow thy flight, child," Master Broflovski said, holding up a hand. Reluctantly, Craig turned from the door to regard him, his hand still on the latch. "We've the plans for tonight yet to discuss."

"Plans?" Craig asked, beginning to feel anxious.

"Aye, for the festival," Mistress Broflovski chimed in, brushing some porridge off of Ike's cheek. "You'll be attending after the day's work is complete, I take it?"

Groaning, Craig rolled his eyes, angry with himself for forgetting one of the biggest revelries of the year: the summer solstice festival. It was one of the few instances where the village folk were encouraged to lay aside their tools and work to herald the coming of the hot season. A giant bonfire was built and everyone came together to dance and imbibe on food and drink, the revelry lasting well into the night. Glancing at Kyle, he could see the excitement in his eyes as he stood from the table as well, clothed in his standard green tunic and appearing so fresh-faced and light of heart. No wonder he had seemed so joyous when Craig had suggested they spend the day together; it meant attending the festival together as well. In years past, Craig had actively refrained from going, not liking the crowds and noise, but now he supposed he had no choice.

"Aye, I'll be going," he sighed, his eyes skipping away from Kyle's, recoiling at the light that appeared in them at his words.

"We're going together," Kyle added, coming to stand beside Craig. "What help did you need from us, mother?"

"Well, I'll expect you both home to wash before making your way to the bonfire," she said, sternly. "I'll not have you gallivanting around with dirty faces, setting tongues to wagging about my inability to keep a handle on you." And, she said, gesturing to a number of pies she had cooling on the sill, with still more on the table waiting to be baked, "I'll need help carrying these over."

"Don't worry, we'll be home to help," Kyle said, tucking a curl behind his ear and darting his eyes to meet Craig's for a moment. "Right, Craig?"

Craig just grunted, his abdomen paining him dreadfully, almost making it so he couldn't think straight. Mistress Broflovski gave him another stern look, her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Are you quite sure you're alright? Your face suggests that you're ailing somehow."

"Sour stomach," Craig snapped, turning away and pushing the door open. Stepping outside, he could feel Kyle at his back, close on his heels.

"We should wait for father," he said, struggling to keep up with Craig's long stride. "Slow down, Craig!"

But Craig couldn't, not with his middle plaguing him so, and certainly not with the thoughts in his head threatening to destroy him. No, he needed to be moving, and quickly; away from the guilt he felt every time he looked at Kyle.

\-----

The sun was sweltering in the sky when Craig finally allowed himself to take a breath, the sweat trickling down the sides of his face as he stood to consider the fields stretching far and away on either side; rows of snap beans, melons, and cucumbers waiting to be weeded. Shading his eyes with his hand, he saw Kyle standing down the way, his small hands diligently working as he gathered vegetables into a basket, the sun making his hair gleam like bloodshed as he worked. Master Broflovski, a small speck in his vision, was working with his hoe at the end of a row, his hat pulled low over his eyes and shading his face from the harsh light falling on them.

Wincing, Craig clutched at his stomach and hissed through his teeth, the pain in his flesh seeming to worsen with every passing hour. He'd tried to covertly clean the wound right after Kyle had fallen asleep the night before, but it hadn't seemed to make a difference. It felt different from any injury he'd ever had in the past, the throb searing in his skin like fire being held against him. It almost seemed to pulse like a heart beneath his fingertips, and all at once he wanted to fall to his knees and cry out from the agony, but he wouldn't allow himself to fall apart in front of Kyle.

"'Tis noon," Kyle announced, coming over with his basket. Gesturing to the sun right overhead, he smiled. "Are you hungry, or did you want to keep working a while longer?"

Wiping sweat from his brow, Craig pulled on a lock of Kyle's hair, giving him a sideways look.

"You already know the answer to that, moon calf," he teased, beginning to stride over toward a stand of trees, the shade beneath them looking very inviting. He tried to walk as naturally as possible, ignoring the ache lancing through him.

"I'm not a moon calf," Kyle pouted, dropping to his knees under the tree while Craig leaned against its trunk. Taking hold of the lunch his mother had packed, he untied the cloth and went about divvying up the bread, cheese, and apples; the jug of water sitting off to the side. After a moment, Master Broflovski joined them, his cheeks ruddy.

"The first day of summer gets hotter every year," he said, taking a bite of bread and closing his eyes for a moment. Opening them, he looked out across the fields. "We're making better time than I thought we would, though." Smiling at the boys, he plucked up a piece of cheese. "I thank you for your help, lads."

"Working all day will just make the festival seem even more enjoyable," Kyle said, resting the apple against his cheek, its peel a vivid red to match the flush in his skin.

"Speaking of the festival, I wish you had reminded me of it sooner," Craig groused, tucking into his bread and cheese even though his appetite was failing him, so great was his discomfort. "I feel like a fool."

"I didn't think to say anything because you never want to go," Kyle reminded him, biting into the apple; juice dribbling down his chin. "How was I to know you'd invite me out of nowhere? Besides, it's on the same day every single year; you should've remembered on your own."

"Still," Craig replied, frowning and taking a sip of cool water, wishing it would take the fire burning his innards. "Why must we go? It will be so loud and crowded and -"

"Fun, it will be fun," Kyle interjected, giving him a stern look. "And you promised, Craig. Didn't you?"

"Not in so many words," Craig muttered, looking away. "I said we could spend the day together, I didn't say anything about a silly festival."

"Now you're splitting hairs," Kyle replied, sticking his tongue out impishly. Suddenly, he lifted his eyes, looking beyond Craig's shoulder. "Someone's approaching. Who could it be?"

"It looks like the Stotch boy," Master Broflovski said, studying the figure as well. "Why would he be visiting us at a time like this?"

Craig merely stared as the visitor drew closer, his bright blonde hair coming into focus before his features, his slight figure clothed in a blue tunic and tan breeches. He'd never been overly fond of Butters, not after their first meeting at the schoolhouse years before, when Butters had made inquiries about him being bewitched. Since then, he'd treated him with abject derision, considering him an imbecile and beneath his notice.

"I bid thee all good day," Butters called, worrying his hands together when he was close enough to be heard. "I apologize if I've interrupted thy work, but my father sent me to beg for a favor."

"And what does Master Stotch need of us?" Kyle's father asked, giving the boy a kindly smile.

"Well, you see, sir, we were to attend to the sheep shearing today, but our help has taken ill," Butters explained, catching Craig's eye and flushing, dropping his focus to the ground as if he'd been chastised. "We pray thee, please help us with our plight, and in exchange my father has promised skeins of wool for your troubles."

Master Broflovski considered this request while studying Craig and Kyle, his brown eyes darkening in thought. Tugging at his bottom lip, he nodded his head suddenly.

"I shall have to say nay on my behalf," he said, glancing at Butters, "but I freely offer the help of these two, if they see fit to comply. What do you say, boys?"

"What about the fields?" Kyle asked. "Don't you still need our assistance?"

"I shall be well enough on my own, methinks," he said. "Besides, thy lady mother would be very grateful for that wool; very grateful, indeed."

"What do you think, Craig?" Kyle asked, turning to Craig. "'T'would be a nice change of pace, don't you think?"

"I'll go for your sake," Craig replied, giving Butters a withering look. "After all, 'tis your day, and we'll spend it how you see fit."

"Then we shall accompany you, Butters," Kyle said, clapping his hands together and standing, brushing crumbs from his lap. "Come, Craig, let's not dally."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Craig sighed, standing as well, the pain in his middle nearly making him fold. He pushed on, though, allowing Kyle to take a hold of his shirt and lead him away from the cool shadows of the tree.

\------

Upon approaching the Stotch residence, Craig was disheartened to see a familiar figure waiting on the banks of the river rushing behind their homestead. Kenny grinned to see them, his gold hair already streaked from sunlight and his eye patch slightly askew. He righted it, his good eye zeroing in on Kyle directly.

"'Tis a joyous occasion getting to see such a pretty face all of a sudden," he said, tweaking one of Kyle's curls and making him blush, stepping back quickly and close to Craig. "Afternoon, Tucker," he added, continuing to leer at Kyle. "I'd of thought you'd be spending such a warm day at The Tail."

"And I would've assumed you'd be sleeping off a bout of crapulence," Craig retorted, going to stand in front of Kyle, shielding him. "Why are you here?"

"We're here to help," a chirpy voice broke from behind them. Turning toward the sound, the trio regarded a young girl wearing a wimple and simple dress, the bodice tightly laced with dark green stays. Her wavy brown hair fell from beneath her head covering in small ringlets, her face flushed pink.

"Don't tell me you don't remember such a comely lass?" Kenny laughed, going to the girl and pinching her cheek, making her giggle.

"Stop teasing me, brother," she chastised, giving Craig and Kyle a soft smile. "You know I'm too old for such things."

"I refuse to agree with that," Kenny said, rolling his eye. "Say hello to the lads, Karen."

Before she could, Master Stotch stepped from the house, frowning when he saw his son.

"You've been away far too long, Butters," he commented, his voice bordering on becoming savage. "I've half a mind to keep you from the festival this evening."

"Pray don't, father!" Butters pleaded, glancing at the others with obvious humiliation, his voice shaking. "I made haste, I assure thee!"

"That remains to be seen," his father snapped, studying the assemblage before him with a frown. "Kenneth, where be thy father? Didn't you say he would helping as well?"

"I am here," Master McCormick slurred, stepping from the forest while adjusting his breeches. "I had to bleed the lizard, Stotch; you understand."

"Aye, that I do," Master Stotch replied, quirking a brow while Kenny visibly colored, watching his father with a grimace. Everyone knew the head of the McCormick clan was a voracious drinker, having established himself as the village drunkard years before. "Art thou ready to assist me in shearing?"

"It would be an honor," the man replied, making an awkward bow. Master Stotch just rolled his eyes and sighed before regarding the rest of the fray.

"You three shall be in charge of washing the sheep before they're shorn," he instructed, pointing to Craig, Kyle, and Kenny. "There be supplies at the ready waiting on the shore. Once the creature has been sufficiently washed you are to push it onto the bank where we will receive it, and so on and so forth. Do you understand?"

Nodding, the three looked toward the shore to see soap and scrub brushes waiting. The bleating of the sheep could be heard coming from a pen, the sound mixing with the rushing water of the river; reflections of clouds dappling its surface.

"'Tis a little late in the year for you to be shearing, Stotch," Kenny's father commented as he followed behind Master Stotch, stumbling slightly. "You're usually done with such work by late spring."

"Aye, but the season was unusually cool this year," Stotch replied, whistling suddenly. Three long-furred dogs appeared from around the cottage, bounding over to their master and waiting with bright eyes and panting mouths. "I wanted to wait until warmer weather set in. Wouldn't do to have a herd of freezing sheep."

"Makes sense," he replied, cocking a brow at his son. "Be off with ye, Kenny, and you lot. Ready yourselves by the water. Karen, you can lay out the fleeces to dry as they become ready."

"Aye, father," Karen said, going to stand out of the way as the sheep pen was opened.

"Come, lads," Kenny smiled, taking the lead toward the river and already beginning to pull his tunic from his breeches. He glanced at Kyle, who was still sticking close to Craig's side, his expression becoming wolfish before he yanked the garment off, revealing tanned, sinewy muscle. "Don't tell me you're going in fully-clothed?"

Catching Kyle's eye, Craig was suddenly filled with apprehension. He couldn't possibly remove his shirt, not with the slash screaming across his belly. Kyle would immediately become alarmed and then there would be too many questions to answer. Shaking his head, he pulled off his boots instead and threw them aside.

"I've been meaning to wash my clothing anyway," he said, gruffly, wincing at such a flimsy untruth. He waited for Kyle to make a comment, surprised when it didn't come. Instead, he slowly began pulling his own tunic off, but instead of throwing it down in an untidy heap like Kenny, he folded it neatly and set it beside Craig's boots.

"You're as white as the maids that wash at the mill pond," Kenny laughed, coming up beside Kyle and poking his side, making him yelp. "I'm starting to think thy flesh simply rejects sunlight completely."

"I'm not that pale," Kyle replied, a flush building in his throat as he covered himself with his arms. His eyes darted to Craig's before skipping away, almost appearing bashful.

"Stop teasing him," Craig growled, stepping between the two of them and taking a hold of Kyle's arm, gently tugging him toward the rushing water. Kyle easily went, his bare skin warm beneath Craig's fingertips. "Don't fret over his nonsense," he added so only Kyle could hear. "You're fine the way you are."

"If you say so," Kyle said, smiling now as the flush crept up into his cheeks. He looked across the river, the water nearly matching the murky quality of his eyes. He sighed as the sun slid from behind a cloud, pouring its brilliance over them. "I'm glad 'tis such a warm day. Aren't you?"

"It certainly helps," Craig replied, stepping into the water and grimacing at the cold enveloping his feet and ankles. Beckoning to Kyle, he managed a small, tight smile. "Are you coming in?"

"Aye, but give me time." Gingerly, Kyle slid his foot into the water, wincing from the chill. Craig couldn't help but watch him with open interest, admiring the way the light played across the redhead's smooth, untarnished skin; small snatches of freckles on his shoulders. He was slim and of delicate stature, his navel a blue shadow in his lean belly. As he moved, his bones shifted fluidly beneath his flesh, making Craig think of birds; transient and nearly weightless.

"Enjoying the view?" Kenny whispered, splashing into the water and getting very close to Craig's ear, making him scowl. "I certainly am."

"Keep your eye to yourself or I'll make it so you have to wear two eye patches," Craig snapped, rounding on him. "You hear me?"

"I'd like to see you try," he jeered, swiping his hand through the water, splashing Craig right in the face and making him sputter. "I hope you were thirsty, Tucker!"

"Filthy jackanape," Craig seethed, wiping water from his eyes. Lunging at Kenny, he managed to overpower him, dunking his head beneath the water and holding him there. Ignoring his struggles, Craig grinned at Kyle who watched with a mixture of amusement and concern.

"Let him up," he finally said, wading deeper into the water until it came to his waist. Shivering, he held himself tighter, gooseflesh appearing on his arms. "We can't wash the whole flock without him, mind you." He smiled, wryly.

"You've a point there," Craig conceded, reluctantly releasing his hold on Kenny and allowing him to surface. Laughing to see him coughing and trying to get his bearings, Craig couldn't help but throw in his two cents. "You should be thanking me, Kenny. It was about time you had a bath, don't you think?"

"Oafish swine," Kenny retorted, brushing his sodden bangs from his eyes. "I'll have your hide before too long, I promise ye."

"Empty threats, lad, empty threats," Craig said airily, turning to regard Kyle as he finally immersed himself completely, his curls wafting on the water's surface along with the bubbles spilling from his mouth. Craig's stomach lurched at the sight, suddenly recalling flaxen hair flowing along a pond's glassy stillness before everything descended into hell. Gulping, he brushed a hand over his stomach, relieved that the frigid water was taking some of the ache from his wound.

"It's not my fault he's so pretty," Kenny muttered before Kyle came up for air, his words almost lost on the breeze. Elbowing Craig, he gave him a pointed look. "You've all but stated you have no intention of returning his obvious longing, Tucker. Stop being heartless."

"You know nothing of my intentions," Craig spat, shoving Kenny away as Kyle breached the water, gasping and wiping the moisture from his eyes. "Leave off, Kenny, if you know what's good for you."

"Art thou at odds?" Kyle asked, swimming over to them and flipping onto his back, pale belly exposed.

"Hardly," Craig replied. "I wouldn't waste my time on such a miscreant."

Before Kenny could make a retort, Masters Stotch and McCormick were shoving the first of the sheep into the water, bleating and foolish as they tried to shy away. Swiftly, the three boys swam to it, holding it in place as it thrashed and began to float like a puff of cotton, its heavy wool quickly becoming saturated. Plucking up her skirts, Karen waded into the water and handed Kyle the jar of soft soap and scrub brush. Butters waited on the shore, holding fast to yet another waiting sheep.

"Put your backs into it," Master Stotch commanded, watching as the sheep was vigorously scrubbed by the trio. "I don't want to see a speck of dirt on that wool."

"Taskmaster," Kenny grunted while keeping a handle on the fearful sheep, his strong arms flexing. "Nevertheless, let's give it our best, lads. What sayest thou?"

"I say shut your maw before I shut it for ye," Craig replied, keeping close to Kyle in case he needed to shield him from flailing hooves.

After a while, the three became lost in the task at hand, readily accepting every sheep as it was coaxed into the water, their hands and arms beginning to ache from diligently washing the creatures. As the afternoon waned on and the sun slid down the slope of the sky, several fleeces came to litter the clean grasses running along the river, drying in the now-welcome heat. Master Stotch was known to be quite adept when it came to shearing, having the ability to get very close to the skins of his prize Merinos but never nicking them, yielding sizable stretches of the fine wool.

The fireflies were just beginning to wink in the grasses and trees by the time the last sheep was shorn, and the boys finally left the water to dry off on the bank, shivering and laying back to stare at the sky. Karen sat off to the side, gathering wildflowers and weaving them together, assembling a pretty crown to wear in her hair. Removing her wimple, she settled the flowers on her head, her long tresses falling over her shoulders.

"I shall wear this to the festival this evening, methinks," she commented, going to the water's edge to admire her reflection. Turning to the boys, her eyes fell on Kyle before she smiled coyly. "You should wear flowers in your hair too, Kyle. They would suit you."

Kyle scoffed before turning his nose up, obviously scandalized by such a suggestion.

"I'm not a maiden," he said, sitting up and crossing his arms. "Or have you forgotten that?"

"But you've such beautiful hair," Karen argued, her tone becoming wheedling. "Why, I wouldn't be surprised if you had fairy blood."

Flushing, Kyle glanced at Craig quickly, both of them seeming to have the same thought.

"The fortune teller," Kyle murmured, rubbing his arm as a cool breeze passed through, gooseflesh once more appearing on his skin. "Remember?"

"Aye, special blood," Craig replied, grimly, having no choice but to place more stock in the mysterious woman's words; what with everything that happened recently.

"What are you two blathering on about?" Kenny asked, flipping his eye patch up for a moment, the eye behind it a very pale blue; a scar running over top of the lid and above his cheekbone.

"Mind your own affairs," Craig said, watching as Karen began to pick more flowers, quickly assembling them into yet another crown.

"Please, just try it on for me," she coaxed, laying it in Kyle's lap. "You'd look so fetching, Kyle."

Biting his lip, Kyle looked to Craig for help as he lifted the wreath of flowers into his hands, cradling it. Against his better judgment, Craig had to admit he was curious to see how he'd look as well, smiling suddenly.

"Try it on," he said, simply. "After all, the wench went to the trouble of making it, the least you could do is humor her."

"You must be daft," Kyle replied, twisting his lips, his stubborn nature rearing its head. "I'll not appease you lot just so you can make sport of me."

Craig didn't reply. Instead, he leaned back on his hands and waited, smirking; Karen and Kenny following suit. Glaring at all three of them, Kyle finally let out a long breath and plopped the crown upon his head, scowling at the ground. Wanting to laugh at his expression, Craig refrained, choosing instead to admire the blooms adorning Kyle's pretty curls. Tenderness welled within him that was quickly squelched by an aching in his heart and wound, suddenly wanting to gather Kyle into his arms and carry him far away. Reaching out, he tucked a scarlet lock behind Kyle's ear, his hand lingering for a moment. Their eyes caught, Kyle studying Craig's face and almost seeming like he was holding his breath, gaze searching.

Almost wanting to confess to everything, the moment was broken when Kenny elbowed Craig out of the way, taking a hold of Kyle's hands and getting very close to his face.

"Wear it to the festival," he gushed, pressing Kyle's hands to his shirtless chest. "Will you? For me?"

"I-I couldn't," Kyle stammered, leaning back while Craig seethed, his hands clenching. "It was just for a lark, Kenny."

"Let's jump the fire together, then. What do you think?"

Now Craig was positively fuming, and before he could stop himself he was taking a hold of Kenny's shoulder and wrenching him back. Picking up Kyle's shirt from the grass, he placed it in his lap.

"Get dressed," he said, shortly. "We need to get home to help your mother. Remember?"

"Spoilsport," Kenny pouted, watching Kyle hungrily as he dressed. "You reject fun the way Kyle's skin rejects sunlight, Tucker."

"Kyle would never jump the fire with you!" Craig yelled, pulling on his boots and standing.

Appearing positively gleeful, Kenny stood as well, his golden skin catching the last rays of light as the sun crested the horizon. Coming up to Craig, he jabbed him in the chest with a finger.

"Oh, and who will he be jumping with, you? That'll be the day, sir."

"What are you two going on about?" Kyle asked, appearing very perplexed as he shared a glance with Karen, who merely looked amused. "Who says I'm jumping the fire with anyone?"

"Aye, but if you did, would you do it with him?" Kenny countered, jabbing Craig's chest again.

"It's a stupid tradition," Craig snapped, hating the way Kenny could deftly put him on the spot. "Leave Kyle alone with that sort of foolishness!"

"I think it's rather sweet," Karen mused, adjusting the crown of flowers still resting in Kyle's hair. "And so romantic, of course."

"What's so romantic about jumping across a fire while holding hands? It's ridiculous!" Craig replied, taking a hold of Kyle's arm and fully prepared to pull him from the group toward home.

"Yes, but if you stay linked you're destined to be together," Karen sighed, leaning her cheek on her clasped hands. "What a lovely thought."

"That's enough of such talk," Craig snapped, tugging on Kyle. "We're leaving."

"Fellows, wait!" Butters called, suddenly happening upon them, the dogs at his heels and his tunic sleeves rolled up; a pile of fleeces in his arms. "My father wanted to thank thee for thy work. Take these home to the Mistress Broflovski with our gratitude."

Craig grunted and relinquished his hold on Kyle's arm long enough to gather the fleeces against himself, grabbing Kyle's hand.

"Come along," he muttered, ignoring Kenny's knowing smile and Karen's dreamy expression. "I've had more than enough of such talk for one day."

\------

The sun was all but gone when the Broflovski clan finally arrived at the festival, attired in their best finery and carrying Sheila's pies, the golden crusts masking the bubbling secrets beneath: a variety of raisin, apple, and fragrant meats. Laying them on a long table, Craig's eyes took in the sight of the rest of the fare: tarts, roasts, loaves of bread, rinds of cheese, even a suckling pig in the table's center with a red apple lodged in its mouth. Exotic fruits from faraway lands were on display as well, oranges and lemons, symbolizing the sun that they'd all come together to celebrate. Great casks of ale and wine sat off to the side, the thirsty villagers filling their vessels and drinking deeply as they milled about.

At the center of it all was the large bonfire, burning away and throwing its woody fragrance into the softening night sky. Stars were scattered like sugar across the heavens as the sun disappeared, leaving the last vestiges of sunset burning in the atmosphere; red, gold, orange, and purple deluging they sky. Maids with flowers and ribbons in their hair danced around the smoldering fire, their cheeks and eyes lit up from the flames and excitement. Hesitant young men stood around watching, coaxing one another to pluck up the courage to ask the damsel they fancied to dance, laughing at those bold enough to make an attempt.

The air was alive with music and laughter, the chattering of so many voices converging on Craig's ears as he hung back, taking it all in. Glancing at Kyle, he could see how happy he was to be there among the other villagers, his eyes bright like coins. He was wearing green again, but had discarded his standard tunic for one of much higher quality, the fabric lighter and softer to the touch. He'd tossed the flowers from his hair after they'd come home and Ike had spied him, laughing to beat the band to see his older brother ornamented like a comely wench, muttering darkly as he did so.

The Mistress Broflovski had been thrilled about the sudden acquisition of such fine sheep's wool, so she was in unusually good spirits as she stood beside her husband, drinking in the sights before her. Her hair was shrouded by a wimple, finding it improper to walk about without her head covered, but she'd worn her nicest gown for the event. The bodice was a deep green threaded with gold, the stays the color of cranberries.  Master Broflovski was attired in his finest dark tunic and breeches, and little Ike was clothed in a cerulean blue tunic, his cheeks rosy from being washed; his hair freshly combed off of his forehead.

Craig, for his part, had allowed Kyle to talk him into changing into his nicer navy blue tunic and dark brown breeches, his standard leather boots on his feet. They were both cleaner than they'd been a while, what with spending the majority of the afternoon in the river; Kyle's hair and skin fairly glowing in the jumping firelight. Idly, Craig wished Kyle had agreed to wear the flowers in his hair, but he wasn't about to openly admit that to anyone.

"What shall we do first?" Kyle asked, turning to Craig. "There's ale there," he pointed to one of the casks. "Would you like some?"

"Aye, I'll need libations to help me through such an event," Craig replied, wryly. "Let's fetch some."

"Mind your manners, children," Kyle's mother called to their backs as they walked away, making Kyle roll his eyes and sigh.

"She means well," he said, his typical response to his mother's cloying ways.

"She always does, doesn't she?" Smirking, Craig fetched up some vessels and filled them with ale for the both of them, handing one to Kyle. His gaze lingered on Kyle's lips as they rested on the rim, suddenly very hungry to memorize all the details of his visage. Shutting his eyes, he weathered a streak of pain as it shot through him, almost making him stagger. Upon opening them, he could see Kyle watching him closely, his mouth turned downward.

"Something is troubling you," he said, eyes snapping. "Now come and tell me what it is, Craig. Your subterfuge is beginning to vex me terribly."

"I'm not engaging in subterfuge, goose," Craig replied, trying to make light of Kyle's anger but barely managing to convince himself that everything was as it should be. He sighed, brushing a trembling hand through his hair, studying the fire snapping and popping at the heart of everything. "Fine, you win, I suppose. I've found myself in some trouble, Kyle. What more is there to say?"

"Plenty!" Kyle all but yelled, beginning to pull Craig from the fray; revelers parting as the pair broke through. Coming to the edge of the forest, he turned to Craig, continuing to hold onto his arm tightly. "What manner of trouble are you in, Craig. Tell me!"

Unable to tolerate Kyle's stricken face for a second longer, Craig flitted his eyes away, his focus arrested by the fireflies as they strobed in the trees, yellow-green lights trembling like the stars above. The words he couldn't speak were heavy on his tongue, his entire being feeling weighted from so many secrets. He couldn't possibly tell Kyle the truth and risk his disappointment or disapproval, having never wanted to suffer his ridicule. Kyle was the one person Craig wanted to please, a fact which suddenly infuriated him because it had left him so vulnerable. Besides, he had a feeling that Kyle being privy to even a hint of the threat hanging about them was putting him in further danger.

"I hurt myself yesterday," he finally said, the words passing easily from his lips because they were steeped in partial truth. "I didn't want to tell you because I know how you like to worry."

"I knew it," Kyle said, appearing relieved and irritated all at once. "I just knew something was wrong, what with you acting so strangely as of late." His eyes scanned over Craig's form, appraising him. "Where? Let me see."

"That's hardly necessary," Craig waved his hand, beginning to back away. All at once, Kyle's hand shot out and grabbed his tunic, showing a surprising amount of strength for one so small.

"I shall attend to thee whether you like it or not," Kyle said, an edge cropping up in his usually gentle tone. "Unless of course you'd like me to let mother in on your little secret."

"You're a sly one, aren't ye?" Craig sighed, rubbing his eyes and beginning to feel vexed himself. Dropping his hand, he placed his fingers on the hem of his tunic, pausing for a moment. "I really don't -"

"Now," Kyle interrupted, firming his chin and crossing his arms.

Groaning, Craig slowly began to lift the fabric, waiting with baited breath for the overreaction that was sure to commence. He was not disappointed.

"Alas! What a dreadful wound!" Almost seeming afraid, Kyle ghosted a finger next to the slash, one hand held to his mouth in shock. "Oh, Craig, does it hurt much? How did you sustain something so awful? Were you attacked?"

Craig shook his head, dropping his tunic over the wound. Averting his eyes, he stared at the ground, the sounds of the festival splashing in and suddenly becoming unbearably loud.

"It must have happened while I was swimming," he lied, the words coming less easily now. He'd always fancied himself an adept liar, except when it came to speaking an untruth to Kyle. His open, honest face always disarmed Craig completely. "I'm not really sure what caused it."

"We should apply honey to it," Kyle murmured, his hand coming up like he wanted to yank Craig's tunic back. "So it doesn't fester."

Craig winced at Kyle's choice of words, almost feeling like the boy had the ability to view his thoughts. Then again, Kyle had always had the uncanny ability to figure him out, a fact which both pleased and disgruntled him.

"Aye, you can dress it with whatever you please when we've gone home," Craig said, feeling some of the fight draining from his body. How could he resist Kyle when he was always so unbearably kind to him, almost like he couldn't control himself; the treatment second nature? More and more, he just couldn't deny that the boy before him was his ultimate undoing, this knowledge paining him as much as the wound burning in his skin.

"Maybe we should go home and see to it now," Kyle suggested, glancing away. "We shouldn't wait, Craig; I can tell you're in pain."

"No," Craig protested, catching Kyle's hand and holding it tightly, pressing it against his chest. The boy turned to him, eyes wide with question. "I won't let my foolishness spoil the festival for you, Kyle; I refuse."

"But -"

"Hush." Craig laid a finger on Kyle's mouth, silencing him. "I won't hear any arguments, is that understood?"

Blushing, Kyle nodded slowly, Craig's finger still resting against his lips. Craig smiled, drifting a hand over his cheek before pulling away, turning his head toward the fray. He wasn't surprised to see a small fire being built by the younger villagers, Kenny and Karen amongst them.

"Shall we take part?" He asked, gesturing to the small crowd with a grin. He couldn't help but roll his eyes when Cartman took a hold of a young girl's hand by the name of Heidi and led her to the flame, both of them appearing shy but excited. After a moment, they leapt across the fire, shrieking with laughter, their hands still firmly clasped when they landed on the other side. The onlookers cheered as Heidi boldly kissed Cartman's cheek, her hair held off of her face with bright green ribbons.

"I thought you said it was a stupid, ridiculous tradition," Kyle reminded him, giving Craig a cheeky look.

"Oh, it is, of this I have no doubt, but if you wanted to join, I wouldn't tease you," Craig replied, pausing for a moment. "Well, not a lot, at any rate."

"Who would I even jump with?" Kyle asked, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "And on that token, whose hand would you take hold of?"

"Ah, see, now you're asking the truly difficult questions," Craig laughed, sidestepping the inquiry with ease. "Your inquisitive nature will never cease to amaze me, Kyle."

"Now you're just being evasive," Kyle pouted, watching yet another couple jump across the fire, though they lost their grip on one another before making it over completely. Suddenly, his expression clouded, becoming pensive. "No, I don't think I want to partake in such a tradition, Craig. You're right; 'tis silly."

"Then what shall we do?" Craig asked, bumping him lightly with his elbow. "Tie one on and look for spirits? They're known to appear on a night such as this."

"No, the fire keeps them at bay," Kyle murmured, his tone coming to match his melancholy state. "I've no worry regarding evil befalling us, Craig; not when we're together."

Slapping a hand over his mouth, he shook his head and looked at Craig with shaded eyes.

"Listen to me prattling on like a ninny," he said, beginning to drift toward the darkened edge of the crowd where the firelight died away. "I don't really feel like being around so many people right now. Why don't we go up to the high meadow and watch the moon for a while? I need some fresh air."

"Would that make ye happy?" Craig asked, following behind him.

"Aye," Kyle sighed, blindly reaching back and taking a hold of Craig's arm. "It would make me very happy."

\------

"It's such a beautiful night," Kyle sighed, lying back and gazing up at the endless sky. "The moon is almost like a queen overlooking her kingdom, and the stars are her handmaidens."

"Aye, or a goddess," Craig replied, choosing to go along with Kyle's whimsy instead of chiding him for it; finding it charming as they lay side by side beneath the heavens. All around them the high meadow stretched on in fragrant waves, resplendent with wildflowers and sweet grasses. "Remember the story we read about Artemis? Perhaps if we look hard enough we'll see her streak across the night, her bow in her hands."

"Tell me of the stars, the pictures they make," Kyle said, turning his cheek and resting it in the cool grass. "You were always better at remembering such things than I."

Thinking for a moment, Craig tried to recall the star charts they'd found in one of Kyle's books. He'd always been preoccupied with anything having to do with the celestial bodies one could observe at night, his interest even transcending Kyle's. They spoke of far, out of the way places, of freedom; severing one's ties from the world and flying unfettered. Sometimes he would just gaze up at the sky and become lost, his chest aching with a need and want he couldn't articulate but exacerbated by the points of light overhead.

Clucking his tongue softly, Craig lifted a hand and pointed to a cluster of stars.

"There be Cygnus, the swan," he said, tracing his finger through the air. "You see?"

"Ah, yes," Kyle said, pointing upward as well, a smile in his voice. "Show me another, please."

"Well," Craig mused, studying the sky. "Over yonder be Aquila." Once again, he traced the outline of the constellation with his finger.

"What does it mean? Aquila?"

"Eagle," Craig replied, having to think for a moment before it came to him.

"They're all birds," Kyle commented, sounding charmed. "I suppose it makes sense in a way, don't you think?"

"I guess," Craig shrugged, dropping his hand to his belly and rubbing it lightly, the throb intensifying even more now. He couldn't help but think that the wound was meant to worsen with each hour, reminding him of what was at stake should he refuse the stranger's demand.

"Show me just one more, and then I'll stop bothering you, I promise," Kyle pleaded, reaching over and brushing Craig's arm with his fingertips. "Please?"

"If it would please you," Craig said, searching once more. After a moment, he held up both hands, framing a small cluster of stars. "There's Lyra."

"You haven't shown me that one before," Kyle replied, sitting up suddenly. "'Tis an odd shape. What is it supposed to be?"

Craig gulped before drawing his hands downward, the sinking apprehension nearly overwhelming him now.

"It's a lyre," he said, remembering the instrument the temptress had clutched in his hands, calling to him; lulling him. Rolling on his side, he turned away from the stars, their calming presence suddenly becoming sinister. Impulsively, he reached up and took a hold of Kyle's tunic, pulling him down to the ground and closer to his side.

"What's wrong?" Kyle asked, turning onto his side as well, his hands nestled beneath his cheek. His forehead creased with worry. "Is it your stomach? Is it plaguing you?"

"Don't worry yourself," Craig said, brushing the hair from Kyle's eyes. "I'll be fine before too long, I suspect."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner that you were hurt?" Kyle's tone softened, a thread of hurt winding through it. "Why do you keep secrets from me, Craig? Don't you trust me?"

"So many questions," Craig sighed, plucking up a piece of grass and twirling it. "Of course I trust you, Kyle. Why, would you say you trust me?"

"With my life," Kyle replied, not hesitating for a moment. The conviction in his voice took Craig by surprise, furthering the agony tearing him apart inside.

"You don't mean that."

Sliding over, Kyle came so close that his bent legs brushed against Craig's, his warmth passing through the night winds and caressing Craig's skin. Out of nowhere, his heartbeat sped up, catching him off-guard. Along with Kyle's heat came his aroma, fresh and clean, a combination of sunlight and apples winding together like bright ribbons. Almost sighing, Craig had to actively stop himself from winding an arm around Kyle's waist and pulling him closer, every part of his body crying out for the boy lying beside him.

"I would never lie to you, Craig," Kyle whispered, his voice becoming muted. After a moment, he yawned, his hand coming up to cover his mouth.

Without thinking, Craig took a hold of Kyle's hand before he could tuck it beneath his cheek again, pressing it down in the grass between them. He squeezed the slim fingers, relishing in their fragility and warmth.

"I just want to protect you," he said, almost feeling like he was tearing out his heart and laying it on the grass as well, pulsing with untold secrets and desires. "That's all I've ever wanted, Kyle."

"That's all I could ever ask for," Kyle sighed, curling into himself more as his eyelids drooped. "May I ask another favor of you, Craig, even though you've already done so much for me today?"

"Anything."

"Can we fall asleep together out here, under the stars? I don't want to go home yet."

Craig couldn't help but laugh, wanting to place Kyle's hand against his lips and kiss the soft skin; he refrained.

"Close your eyes, then," he murmured, shutting his own. In the distance, the chattering and music of the festival could still be heard, providing a comforting backdrop to the  winds rustling the grasses around them. Somewhere in the night, a wolf howled, though the mournful sound was far away. Kyle started slightly but Craig held his hand tighter, reassuring him.

"Don't worry," he said, softly. "I'm here."

There were silent for a time, deep breaths being passed between them. Craig was almost certain that Kyle was asleep until his small, tired voice broke the quiet they'd created.

"Craig?"

"Hmm?"

"I would go with you."

Sluggishly, Craig tried to comprehend what he was being told, Kyle's voice having pulled him from the waters of sleep suddenly.

"What?"

"If you left, I would go with you," Kyle said, his voice heavy as he pulled his legs up to his chest and burrowed his cheek into the grass. "I just wanted to let you know."

After this confession, sleep was an elusive creature for Craig, his eyes lingering on Kyle's sleeping form beside him. Against his will, he allowed his thoughts to stray to dark territory, the man coming into focus with his bloodied eyes and cruel smile. Shuddering, Craig threw caution to the wind and pulled Kyle's warm body against his own, cradling him close to his chest. The smaller boy stirred for a moment before nuzzling into Craig, sighing softly in his slumber.

_One more day_ , he thought, pressing his lips against Kyle's curls; his eyes closing against the pain in his chest. It took everything within Craig not to carry Kyle away that very moment, spiriting him away into the night and beyond the reach of the horrors biding their time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this fic is based on a song (much like most of my other fics); Ribbon of Darkness (sung by Marty Robbins). I'm a loser so I'll provide a link if anyone's interested (which I'm sure you aren't, but still xD):
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXf3xd8zrX8
> 
> PPS: can anyone tell me where the 'craig liking astronomy' trope came from? has it been mentioned in the show, or is it in a game or something? I'd like to think i know south park pretty well but i have no idea where tf that came from xD help a sister out, lol


	5. Chapter 5

The world was going up in flames but he couldn't run away. Feeling like he was wound in chains, Craig desperately tried to free himself, but no matter what he did he was trapped. He opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out, recoiling when the horrible man suddenly appeared before him, his eyes burning like the fire engulfing them. Thrashing about, Craig tried to beg for mercy, to plead with him, but he merely smiled, the gesture reeking of malice and spite.

"You're running out of time, lad," he said, his voice jagged rows of teeth gnawing at Craig's brain. "Make your decision wisely or else -"

All at once, Craig's middle was lanced with excruciating pain that nearly consumed him, a white-hot light filling his mind. He gagged, nearly losing his guts all over himself. Clenching his eyes shut, he could feel them burning, but not because of the crackling flames. Gritting his teeth, he tried to speak again, but his voice wouldn't come.

"La, so much unnecessary suffering," the man all but sighed, his voice bordering on becoming tender. "After all, I'm only asking thee to repay a debt. Have courage, boy."

Sagging in his place, Craig hung his head, and then a softness was falling over his head and shoulders, drenching his hair. Weakly, he lifted his face, sudden rainfall splashing over him and almost serving to revive his will, the fires momentarily pushed back along with the man's reprehensible darkness. Opening his hands, they filled with droplets of water, and he gazed down at his reflection captured in his palms.

 _Courage_ , he thought, his mind clearing somewhat. _I must have courage_.

Then he was truly opening his eyes, finding himself back in the open meadow with Kyle curled close against his side. The clouds had rolled in overhead while they slept, and the grasses were rustling as they were struck with rain. It wasn't quite dawn but Craig could feel it approaching rapidly, the sky breaking apart as the sun waited to rise. The stars had been blotted out by the heavy clouds, creating a disheartening sight as Craig sat up to look around, his gaze falling on the boy curled up and less than a finger's length away from him.

Craig decided that it must not have been raining for very long as he studied Kyle's face, his curls slightly damp but not terribly so. His lips were slightly parted as he continued to sleep deeply, his cheeks flushed from the warmth of slumber. Reaching out, he took a hold of one of Kyle's hands, which were curled close to his face.

"Wake up," Craig whispered, jostling him lightly. "'Tis starting to rain, we need to get home."

A sound, almost like a whimper, escaped Kyle's mouth as he stubbornly continued to sleep, drawing his knees closer to his chest. Rolling his eyes, Craig shook his hand again, a little harder.

"Stop being a goose," he said more loudly. "Your mother will have my hide if I let you sleep in the rain, now rouse thyself."

"Sleepy," Kyle mumbled, trying to yank his hand away from Craig's.

Fighting back his growing irritation, Craig couldn't help but sigh softly. He couldn't blame Kyle for being more tired than usual. After all, he'd come looking for Craig the night before out of concern, disrupting his own slumber.

"Fine, if you're going to act like a babe in arms, I suppose I'll have to treat you like one," Craig muttered, getting to his feet and wincing when his middle throbbed, his dream coming back to him in a wave that made his heart pound. He had reason to believe the vision had not been his mind merely toying with him. No, it had to have been a portent, a harbinger of awful things preparing to befall him.

Slowly, he knelt down next to Kyle and gently scooped the snoozing boy into his arms, cradling him against his chest as he stood. Immensely glad for Kyle's slightness, he smiled indulgently when Kyle pressed his cheek against him and let out a contented breath.

"You're warm," he said, eyes fluttering a few times before he slept again, his hand clenched in Craig's tunic.

"Oh, hush," Craig replied, deriding himself for flushing at Kyle's words like a fool. Attempting to make haste, Craig could smell the ghostly remnants of the festival's bonfire lingering on the rain-cooled breezes as he headed for the forest, his arms clutching at Kyle tightly.

\-----

Upon entering the quiet cottage, Craig half-expected to be greeted by a wrathful Mistress Broflovski, but the kitchen was blessedly empty; the fire's embers lighting his path across the wood floor. Kyle continued to sleep in his arms, still not truly rousing even when Craig lay him in his bed; slipping his boots from his feet. Tucking the blanket under his chin, Kyle's eyes opened momentarily, muted clovers in the shadowed room. He smiled.

"I can't believe you carried me home," he said sleepily, his voice teasing.

"You gave me no choice," Craig replied, going to his own bed and sitting down heavily, his hand straying to his belly. "Now close your eyes, the sun will be up before too long."

"Aye, sir," Kyle said, turning on his side so his back was to Craig. After a moment, his deep breaths permeated the room. Craig watched him for a time, eyes resting on the little form huddled under the blanket and sleeping so soundly.

 _Sleeping the sleep of the innocent,_ he thought, dragging a hand through his hair; the desire to sleep completely escaping him now. Considering Kyle's menagerie of creatures upon the sill, he located his knife and the sphinx that he still needed to finish, cradling the articles in his hands. He glanced between them and the sleeping boy across the room several times before he set them aside, the anxiety and fear rising in his breast until he felt like he was being strangled.

Craig knew that he couldn't just sit there while catastrophe hung over their heads, but he was at a loss as to how he should proceed. Crazy thoughts plagued him, eclipsing his rational side as the minutes ticked by, his brain flitting through solutions and plans that seemed useless. Fixing his eyes on the face of the sphinx, a sudden idea arrested him though, and brief, painful excitement came to register within him. He'd been so consumed with fear and helplessness that he hadn't stopped to consider all of his options, and now the answer seemed so obvious he could've kicked himself.

 _The fortune teller_ , he thought, rising from his place and nearly staggering, his hand clutching at his middle. _Maybe she can think of a way out of all this. I'll even apologize for being a fool and not paying heed to her words._

Throwing a glance at Kyle, Craig slowly tiptoed from the room, not wanting to rouse him and risk being questioned. Passing through the shadowed kitchen, he stole from the cottage on suddenly light feet, his heart racing as he clutched at a thread of hope. It wasn't until he'd made it to the village proper that he slowed down, sudden worry stealing over him. What if he was unable to locate her? What if she'd moved on already?

Walking the empty streets of the village, Craig peered in every alcove and alleyway he came across, realizing the transient nature of the fortune teller's business meant she could be anywhere at anytime. It didn't help that his wound was beginning to burn even more terribly than it had before, the pain lancing through him and slowing his stride to nearly a crawl. He also noticed that his mind was becoming progressively foggier as his body weakened, making it hard to think and move without becoming breathless and disoriented.

"'T'will consume me soon if I let it," he muttered, leaning against the wall of the tavern, its lights illuminated against the grey chill that came with the rain showers. Sudden nausea assaulted him, souring his tongue, and he found himself nearly falling to his knees, his hand pressed against the clammy wood. Shutting his eyes, he tried to find his bearings while he coasted through the agony, becoming faint as his head swam.

"We just keep running into each other, Tucker."

Through the fog obscuring his brain, Craig could make out a voice, teasing and terribly familiar. Managing to wrench his eyes open, he looked up to see Kenny smirking down at him, his hands on his hips; hair mussed and his breath reeking of ale, the scent wafting under Craig's nose. He resisted the urge to gag.

"W-what are you doing out at this hour, Kenny?" Craig asked, pressing a hand against his forehead. "I'd think you'd be sleeping off your stupor by now. Don't ye ever go home?"

"Aye, but The Tail stayed open all night because of the festival," Kenny replied, smacking his lips. "I meant to be home before dawn but one thing led to another, and before I knew it I was frolicking with a very tempting wench over at the brothel. You understand."

"Naturally," Craig sighed, rolling his eyes and regretting it immediately, his vision beginning to darken on the edges. "Well, you can keep moving. I'm well enough on my own."

Kenny scoffed before kneeling before him, getting very close to Craig's face and studying him.

"I've seen healthier things dragged in by our cat, lad. And they were usually dead, mind you. You are certainly a sight, I must say. What ails thee?"

"Get your nose out of my business before I tear it off," Craig snarled, attempting to rise but wincing openly, both of his hands settling over his belly now. He drew a trembling breath before he couldn't control himself a moment longer, starting to gag and dry heave until he fell over, his head resting against the tavern. "Please," he moaned, turning away in shame. "Just leave me be, Kenny; I implore thee."

"Nay," Kenny replied, his tone becoming serious. "You're pale as a ghost, sir, and I know you be caught in a misery. Open your damn foolish mouth and tell me what's plaguing ye before I sock ye in the jaw."

"Leave off," Craig panted, quickly reaching his end before he was retching again, bringing up bile that burned as it dribbled from his mouth.

"Well, ye asked for it," Kenny shrugged, drawing back before bringing his fist forward sharply, stopping just before it collided with Craig's jaw and smirking when he flinched. "Ah, now I really know you're in for it, lad. You never shy away like that, ye great skittish horse."

Craig just groaned, still breathing heavily, his mouth rapidly filling with saliva as he fought waves of nausea. He could feel the color draining from his face now as droplets of sweated collected on his brow.

"You're not proving anything by refusing to accept help," Kenny said, his tone softening. "Except that your willingness to act like a fool is boundless. Come now and speak before you keel over." He laughed and smacked Craig's leg lightly. "Rest assured, I won't haul ye home if that happens."

"Fine," Craig replied, bitterly. Propping himself against the tavern, he wiped a hand over his mouth, clearing it of bile and perspiration. "It's not like you're giving me much of a choice in the matter, right?"

"Aye," Kenny said, simply. "None at all, really."

"Then help me find the fortune teller. The one we spoke of in the Tail not so long ago. Can ye do that?"

Cocking a brow, Kenny appeared perplexed at such a request, not that Craig could blame him after he'd derided her authenticity.

"What business do ye have with her?" Coming closer, he looked deeply into Craig eyes, frowning suddenly. "What did ye do, Craig?"

"I don't have time for an inquisition from the likes of ye," Craig snapped, trying to sit up and failing, falling against the tavern once again. "Can ye help me or not?!"

Lapsing into silence, Kenny stroked his chin, considering Craig's request. His good eye burned brightly, almost like it was lit from within.

"I know the place she frequents," he admitted, going to stand. "Before the sun rises, at any rate."

"Take me to her," Craig demanded, pushing against the wall and slowly rising. Through a herculean effort, he managed to make and keep his feet. After a moment he stumbled, though, almost cringing when Kenny caught him and held him up.

"Ye be in a bad way," he remarked, grimly. Taking Craig's arm, he began to lead him down the muddy street, the rain falling steadily. "Where be Kyle, by the way? Why isn't he with ye?"

"He doesn't need to know about any of this," Craig muttered, wanting more than anything to pull away from Kenny's grasp, but secretly grateful for his support; despising his own weakness beyond all reason.

\-----

It wasn't too long before they came across a familiar figure sitting upon a blood-red cloth, garbed in the same royal blue cloak as before; face obscured. Gritting his teeth and leaning heavily against Kenny, Craig noticed that everything about her almost seemed to be the same as the day she'd read Kyle's fortune, right down to the same golden bowl full of water. Glancing at Kenny, he studied his tanned, wind-roughened cheek.

"How did ye know she'd be back here?" He asked, looking around at the drab alley they were standing in, tucked away and easily overlooked unless one seemed to be looking for it specifically. The buildings on either side loomed up and leaned against one another tipsily, providing a respite from the elements.

"I told ye," Kenny muttered, pulling him closer, "I sense something in her that's thrown off the balance of the village. I decided to keep tabs on her until she moves on and the wind changes back to its regular course; I wasn't kidding."

"Aye, I remember ye mentioning something to that effect," Craig said, ashamed that he hadn't taken Kenny at his word. He'd always been sensitive to such things, the odd shifts in the world around them, but he'd chosen to disregard his instincts; allowing his pride to override his good sense.

"Be on thy guard," Kenny said, stopping right before the fortune teller, who finally lifted her head, though her face remained in soft shadow. Craig nodded, searching the darkness within the woman's hood and practically feeling her eyes boring into him.

"Gentlemen," her smoky voice parted the rain and wind, arresting their focus immediately. Suddenly, she was drawing back her hood, and for the first time Craig could see her clearly, her brown skin and red lips, her hair so richly black it almost seemed to absorb whatever light touched it. Like before, she appeared ageless and oddly solid, like she wasn't sitting on the earth but was a part of it; unmovable. Narrowing her sharp eyes, she studied Craig like she was a spider weaving him into her web.

"Thou art in trouble," she commented smoothly, almost like she was speaking of the weather; matter of fact. "You've had a curse laid upon thee, I can smell it." Lifting her face, she wrinkled her nose, recoiling and sinking farther into her cloak. Craig had ignored her garment before, but now he could detect silver threads winding through it, seeming to pulsate like specks of light.

Feeling Kenny's hand tense on his arm, Craig nodded slowly, his shame and fear seeming to devour his guts. Swallowing, he gulped down bile and bitter pills, the awful truth of her words sliding through him and becoming knives.

"Aye," he said, quietly. "But it isn't myself I'm worried for, it's -"

"He of the red hair," she interrupted, nodding. "Pull up thy shirt, child, and let me see with mine own eyes what has befallen thee."

Ignoring the way Kenny sucked in his breath at the mention of red hair, Craig weakly pulled up his tunic to reveal the slash on his abdomen, the edges of the wound curling in and beginning to blacken. The inside pulsed a hellish red, the laceration beginning to exude a sickly, cloying odor. Her eyes widened in obvious shock, and she drew her arm to her face, one long sleeve dangling down as she covered her nose.

"Heavens preserve thee," Kenny gasped, gaping at the wound, his pupil constricting slightly. "Craig, how did this happen?!" Looking into his face, sudden anger began encroaching into his expression. "And what is this talk of someone with red hair? She can't be talking about Kyle, can she?"

"'T'will eat you alive," she said, continuing to hide her face, eyes trailing over Craig's belly. "It already is, unless ye make a decision. This wound reeks of a dark enchantment, lad. The one who laid it upon thee is very serious about his intentions; very serious, indeed."

"Can nothing be done?" Craig asked, covering the wound again and wincing when the slightest brush of his tunic whispered against it. "Nothing at all?"

Slowly, she shook her head, her fathomless eyes planets orbiting empty space.

"I tried to warn thee," she murmured, taking up a cluster of multicolored rocks like she'd done when reading Kyle's future. Shaking them in her palm, she opened her hand and allowed them to fall into the bowlful of water. This time, the water within began to churn madly, conjuring up bubbles before it erupted into a tide of red, resembling gore. Looking up from the awful sight, she finally drew her sleeve away and gave Craig a look of contempt.

"Ye did not listen, and allowed thy primal urges to supersede thy sense. Now ye must pay the piper, I'm afraid; not even I have the capability of lifting such strong magic."

Anger welled in Craig's breast at the cruel finality of her words, and he had to stop himself from lunging toward her, his foot aching to upset the bowl and send it flying.

"Ye warned Kyle of a temptress, not I! How was I to know?!"

"I may have been speaking to the redheaded one but 'twas you I was warning," she snapped, passing a hand over the bowl until it stopped bubbling, becoming terribly still. "You've a darkness in thee that threatens his light. He should be more afraid of ye than the horror ye found in the forest. Mark my words," she added, pulling her hood back up and retreating back into its shadow, "if ye don't take responsibility for what you've done, Kyle will pay the ultimate price. He has something to offer that evil can't help but want."

"His light," Craig repeated, folding now as the pain overwhelmed him, placing his hands on his knees as he stared without seeing what was before him. "Special blood," he added, whispering. "No, I will not allow this. I will protect him with everything I have."

"So be it," she replied, leaning back against the wall, a smile creeping into her words that wasn't altogether unkind. "Meet thy doom head-on, child, and perhaps ye will be afforded the mercy of coming back in your next life as a creature with some sense."

"I've no doubt ye brought the monsters with you when you decided to visit this village," Kenny seethed, taking a hold of Craig's arm and beginning to draw him away. "Unease follows thee wherever ye go, I can feel it. Why don't ye just move on?"

"Aye, it's nearly time," she agreed, her voice beginning to hush like she was readying to sleep. They were nearly to the mouth of the alley when she spoke again, her voice carrying on the air like the smoky perfume it was. "Child?"

Craig stopped and turned, waiting.

"I truly wish ye had listened," she said. "Take care of thyself, and have courage. The future isn't always set in stone, even if 'tis hard to change. Remember that."

\------

By the time Craig was able to shake off a frazzled and ranting Kenny, the sun had already climbed halfway up the sky, its watery light passing through layers of dark clouds. He saw it on occasion, shining weak forks across the terrain as he trudged home, his head down. The world was hushed and barely moving as the words of the fortune teller rang through his brain, all but sealing his fate and obliterating any hope he'd managed to dredge up. It didn't help that Kenny had threatened him with bodily harm should anything happen to Kyle, which he fervently assured him wouldn't; not so long as he had strength to fight.

"I'll take my medicine like a man," he'd promised, wrenching his arm from Kenny's grip before turning away. "I would never let Kyle suffer in my stead, Kenny. Ye know that."

"That remains to be seen," Kenny had argued, coming round and getting in his face again, raking his hands through his hair and making it stand wildly on end. "Kyle's always had your best interest at heart far more than you've had his. I also know that to be the God's honest truth."

"I don't need to defend myself to you!" Craig had finally roared, throwing off his agony and taking a hold of Kenny's tunic, pulling him close and shaking him viciously. For a moment, they had only stared each other down, ragged breaths tearing from their mouths before Craig threw him aside in disgust.

"Where are you going?!" Kenny had yelled at Craig's retreating back. "If Kyle gets hurt, so help me God, Tucker, I'll -"

"Stay out of it," Craig had called over his shoulder, not bothering to turn 'round. "Your assistance is no longer necessary. Go home and sleep off thy drink, you reek of spirits."

"Bastard," Kenny had hissed, prompting Craig to lift his hand in a rude gesture, sealing their less-than-ideal parting.

Now Craig was only moments from home, his feet becoming heavier with every step. The sweltering of his cursed wound seemed to be settling into his blood and bones now, a metallic taste crawling up his throat like the poison was trying to escape his body. At times he felt like he was nearly floating, his body feeling like he was slowly but surely being hollowed out. It was with dragging feet that he finally approached the cottage, smoke billowing from the small chimney and the windows warm with soft light. Oh, how cozy it looked, so inviting, but he'd never felt more homeless in his life.

Pushing on the door, he stepped into the kitchen, filled with scents of cinnamon and wood smoke. Next to the hearth, Kyle's mother sat at her spinning wheel, taking the wool they'd earned and turning it into fine yarn, her foot pumping the treadle steadily as her skilled hands flashed. At the table beside her sat Kyle and Ike, a pile of books laid out before them as Kyle diligently taught Ike his words and sums. It'd been decided long ago that Ike was too delicate to attend school with the rest of the children, the trek through the forest too long for his weak legs and too taxing for his lungs, so his brother had readily volunteered to teach him at home.

"Good, good," Kyle murmured, watching as Ike wrote on the slate they shared. Flicking his eyes up, Kyle's face lit up with a smile when he saw Craig entering the room, his cheeks flushed from being so close to the fire. "Welcome back," he said, cheerily. "I'd wondered where you'd gone."

"As did I," Kyle's mother said, eyeing Craig with suspicion, though her disposition didn't seem overly combative. "Art though hungry? We've leftover pie and porridge besides."

Craig shook his head before passing through the room, trying to keep his gait as normal as possible. He could feel Kyle watching him closely and he took care to keep his eyes averted, wanting to avoid further questions. Climbing the stairwell, he limped into his room, collapsing on his bed and dropping his arm over his eyes, groaning softly.

"Where were you?" Kyle's voice broke into his thoughts and he raised his arm to see him standing there, a pot clutched in his hands. Almost appearing amused, he sat on the edge of the bed and lifted the lid, setting it aside. "Did thee have an errand in the village or what?"

"Or what," Craig muttered, watching as Kyle pulled a dipper coated with honey from the pot, the thick syrup a sunny yellow. Without being asked, he lifted his tunic and waited, his eyes drifting away and becoming trained on the wall.

"Forgive me for not attending to thee sooner," Kyle replied, ignoring Craig's evasiveness. After a moment, Craig could feel the honey coming to coat his wound, thick and sticky as Kyle carefully applied it, his touch soft. Gritting his teeth, he resisted succumbing to the ache in his skin and heart, trying to stay still and quiet. He started, though, when he felt a warmth settling against him and then heard a sharp intake of breath.

"'Tis hot to the touch, like you're burning from the inside," Kyle breathed, pulling his hand away. "This isn't a normal wound, Craig, there's something sinister about it." Lapsing into silence, he set the honey pot aside before holding up a length of white bandage, no longer amused; his expression somber. "Here, sit up so I can dress it."

Wordlessly, Craig did as he was asked and suffered through Kyle's attentions, wanting to pull him close and push him away at the same time, his mind at war with itself. Soon he was finished wrapping Craig's stomach, his hand coming to rest on his side, careful not to hurt him further.

"This didn't happen while you were swimming," he said, softly, dropping his gaze to his hands. "Won't you tell me the truth?"

"Please, let's not talk about this," Craig said, some of his composure breaking as he wrapped his arms around Kyle, hugging him tightly. Nestling his face in the red locks he adored so, Craig shut his eyes, his breaths coming in rapid puffs. "Let's talk of anything else, I'm begging you."

Kyle was silent for some time while Craig's raspy breaths filled the cracks in the room, his body relaxing into Craig's arms. Timidly, he wound his arms around Craig as well, stroking his back while he nodded his head.

"I was looking at the star charts while you were away," he murmured, settling his head on Craig's shoulder. "I was thinking that if the weather cleared we could look at the stars again tonight. Would that be okay?"

Craig could hardly believe it when he suddenly had to choke back a sob, his breath becoming trapped in his lungs as he pressed a hand to his mouth. Silently, he nodded, afraid to speak, knowing full and well that such a simple desire on Kyle's part seemed like the most impossible thing in the world right then. All at once, the fear that had been rising steadily in Craig over the past two days reached a breaking point and he was squeezing Kyle so hard he squeaked; delicate bones shifting under Craig's grip.

"Kyle, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Craig said, clenching his teeth. "Please forgive me."

Stiffening, Kyle pulled away to study Craig's face, his own stricken and confused.

"Craig, you don't sound like yourself," he said, eyes searching. "What would I need to forgive you for? You've done nothing wrong."

"I should've been killed the night the raiders came," Craig said, withdrawing back into himself and pushing away, a hand raking through his hair. "It would've been better for everyone, especially you."

Kyle gasped at his words.

"You don't mean that," he whispered. "How could you say something like that about yourself?" After a moment, he took a deep breath, his voice fierce when he spoke again. "I never want to hear such talk again, ever. I won't listen to it."

"What, can't stand to hear the truth?" Craig snapped, suddenly wanting to become antagonistic, his misery only serving to infuriate him because he couldn't do anything with it. Anger at least inspired him to act; sadness just rendered him immobile and useless. "Sorry to disappoint you, Kyle, but I'm really not the person you think I am. Accept it."

"Now you're just being cruel, and for no reason," Kyle replied, hugging himself and looking away. "You won't even give me the chance to know you, Craig, you never have. Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"

"It's only because you want something from me that I can't give," Craig replied, allowing his tone to become caustic even though he hated himself for launching such vitriol at Kyle. He wanted to pull the words back as soon as they'd left his mouth, knowing they reeked of lies, but he allowed them to linger; festering in the air between them.

"I-I don't know what you mean," Kyle stammered, flushing red. He glanced at Craig like he was ashamed, his eyes strangely bright.

"You know exactly what I mean," Craig said, wanting to wound Kyle so deeply he'd come to hate him, maybe then it would make it easier to leave him behind. He'd all but decided to surrender himself to the dark man, but he didn't want to leave this horrible longing behind in Kyle's heart; no, he needed to crush it. Standing, he strode across the room and took up one of Kyle's creature's sitting on the sill, an elaborate dragon he'd carved for him two years prior.

"Do you think you're good at hiding what you actually feel, huh?" Craig asked, holding up the creature and waving it Kyle's disbelieving face. "I know all about you, Kyle. I can feel you watching me, your heart in your eyes like a damn lovesick fool. You're pathetically transparent, you always have been."

Reeling like he'd been struck, Kyle hugged himself tighter, his head dropping as his shoulders began to shake.

"Stop, just stop," he begged, his voice thick with tears.

"No, I'm just saying what needs to be said," Craig said, throwing the dragon on the floor before he stomped on it, his heavy boot smashing the delicate wood to smithereens. For a moment, Kyle only stared at him in shock before he jumped from the bed and fell to his knees, trying to pry Craig's foot from the floor.

"No, you can't! Get off, please!"

"It's for your own good," Craig growled, wanting to tear out his own heart while watching what he was doing to Kyle's, but not being able to stop. He couldn't let him love him anymore, it just wasn't fair. Yanking a wolf off the sill, he threw it to the floor as well. Bringing his foot down, he ground the figure into the floor, its remnants scraping against the boards. Kyle screamed like he was the one under Craig's boot, pleading with him to come to his senses and stop.

"You said you cared about me!" Kyle sobbed, looking up at Craig as tears and mucus streaked down his face. "Why are you acting this way?! What have I done?!"

"I pity you," Craig replied, snatching the unicorn from the sill and preparing to throw it on the floor, his heart and wound throbbing and becoming one. Outside, he could see the sun beginning to sink little by little, the day having gotten away from them before he knew it. Very soon, he'd need to make the trek back into the forest, where he knew the man would be waiting. "I kept waiting for you to wake up and come to your senses but I guess you never will. You're just a fool, Kyle; you always have been."

Lifting the unicorn into the air, he prepared to throw it down when Kyle suddenly launched himself from the floor, his small hands clenching on Craig's arm with surprising force.

"Not that one!" He yelled, twisting Craig's wrist and quickly swiping the unicorn from his hand before he could react. Backing away, he clasped it between his hands, holding it close to his face. His eyes were wild-bright with unshed tears, his demeanor exuding complete devastation. He was staring at Craig like he'd never seen him before. Choking back another sob, he slowly opened his hands and stared down at the tiny unicorn, biting at his lip.

"So, I'm a fool," he said, tremulously. "I readily admit to that, but I can't just stop having the feelings that I do. I'm sorry that you don't want them, or me, but you didn't need to do this." Anger erupted in his eyes like summer lightning and he stepped forward, the hand not clutching the unicorn clenched at his side. "You're acting like you've completely taken leave of your senses, Craig," he added, pointing to the floor where the remains of his creatures were littered. "Now tell me what's going on!"

"You can never leave well enough alone, can you?" Reaching out his arm, Craig swept the remainder of Kyle's menagerie off the sill, the animals thudding to the floor with a clatter. "I can't believe I've put up with you for so long...pretending we're brothers, like I actually owe you something. I owe you nothing."

"Put up with me?" Kyle replied, some of the anger already filtering out of his tone; defeat taking its place. "But you wanted to spend the whole day together yesterday, it was your idea. You even carried me home, and -"

"Aye, and it was a mistake," Craig cut him off, yanking his cloak from the peg on the wall and pulling it on. He averted his eyes because looking at Kyle was just too painful now, knowing that the words he was hurling at him were unspeakably cruel; sharp and drawing invisible blood. He kicked at the creatures beneath his feet, scattering them. "As were these, all of them."

Turning, he headed for the door, drawing his hood over his face so Kyle couldn't see his expression. He couldn't be sure if he was making the best decision in his haste, but everything was quickly converging on him: the fortune teller's inability to help, the wound tearing him apart, the devotion and longing in Kyle's eyes; all of it. His world was breaking apart and there was nothing he could do except try to make their separation easier, even if he had to resort to cruelty.

"Where are you going?" Kyle asked, making no move to follow him. "Craig!"

"Out," Craig muttered, keeping his eyes on the floor. "Leave me be, Kyle, understand? I need time to think and I can't do it with you forcing your company on me."

"But -"

Abruptly, Craig slammed the door on Kyle and his words, shutting him out as he rushed down the stairs. After a moment, he had passed through the kitchen while ignoring Sheila's shouted inquiries and then he was escaping the cottage, almost positive he would never return.

\-----

Kyle stood in the heavy silence of the room, staring at the door Craig had shut in his face. Almost feeling like he was in a trance, his eyes slid from it and came to rest upon the floor, where his poor creatures had fallen. The air felt thicker, filled with a strange tension, and vaguely he became aware of soft sunlight filtering through the window. It caught the dust motes wafting and attempting to settle, the atmosphere crowded with the anger and sorrow that Craig's words had left behind. After a moment, he managed to find his bearings somewhat and he was moving across the floor, his steps heavy as he approached his collection, slow tears still falling down his face.

"What just happened?" He asked, staring at the broken pieces. "What did I do...?"

Picking his way through the remnants, Kyle looked out the window to see Craig walking away from the cottage, though he appeared to be limping; his stride far slower than normal. It was obvious that he was in a great deal of pain and Kyle shuddered at the memory of his wound, angry-red and exuding waves of strange heat. Clutching at the sill, the unicorn felt like a shard of glass in his palm as he held it against his cheek, watching as Craig disappeared into the dark tangle of the forest. It was cool and smooth next to his skin, and he was thankful that he'd been able to save it from Craig's sudden fury.

Guilt washed over Kyle as he tried to decide what to do, feeling terrible for pretending to sleep while Craig had carried him home that morning. His arms had just been so warm and comforting as they cradled him, and he hadn't wanted him to let go. He'd wanted the previous day to go on forever, just being able to be near to Craig no matter the circumstance; sleeping beneath the stars and relishing in his warmth and protection. Hugging himself against the pain, he tried to focus on that instead of Craig's cruel words, the way he'd thrown Kyle's feelings in his face. So, he'd managed to guess, after all....

 _He said he wanted to protect me_ , Kyle thought, stifling a sob behind his hand. _What changed? I know something's wrong, something terrible, but he always shuts me out. He always keeps me at arms' length._

He couldn't deny that Craig had been acting very strangely the past couple days, becoming more evasive and irritable than usual, but he'd been so attentive too; indulgent, really. He'd seemed distracted and pensive, sudden flares of temper offset by a reluctant tenderness. None of it made any sense to Kyle, not at all, but he had been hoping that Craig was finally starting to open up to him, at least a little. That was part of the reason his sudden outburst had been so devastating to him; he simply had not seen it coming. His stepbrother could be savage and mean-spirited, of course, but he'd never spoken to Kyle like that, not in all the years they'd grown up together. And the way he'd attacked the carvings he'd so painstakingly created for Kyle was completely contrary to his character. He took pride in his work, always, and he knew how much the creatures meant to him.

A sudden terrible thought came to Kyle then, making his heart beat painfully fast in his chest. What if Craig had decided to finally leave, like he'd often talked about? Their conversation from the day before came back to him in a flood, and suddenly he was so afraid that his mouth became dry.

"I told him I'd go with him, though," Kyle said, turning on his heel and running for the door, ripping it open. "He wouldn't just leave without me, would he? Without even saying goodbye?"

"Kyle, where are you going?" His mother called as he practically tore through the kitchen, almost like the Devil himself was on his heels. Slowing down a tad, he saw her watching him with sharp eyes, her hands still flying as she worked at her wheel. "Craig just left without even saying a word. What's going on, child?"

"I-I have some business to attend to in the village," he lied, stuttering over his words as his mother scrutinized him. "Craig went on ahead and I told him that I'd catch up."

"What sort of business could ye possibly have?" She asked, cocking a brow. Ike looked up from his book, his dark eyes questioning.

Beginning to feel even more frantic, Kyle started moving toward the door. He knew he had to make haste if he was going to catch up with Craig, but he didn't want to make his mother worry (or angry) unnecessarily. In a perverse way, one that filled him with shame, he was suddenly grateful that Craig's wound had slowed his step so much, otherwise he'd never have a ghost of a chance of reaching him in time.

"I'm in a hurry," he said, opening the door. "I'll answer all of thy questions when I return, I promise."

Giving him a stern look, she stopped pumping the treadle, her entire posture stiffening. It was unusual for Kyle to deny her anything, and she was not one to tolerate disobedience of any sort.

"I'd expect such an answer from Craig," she said, tapping her foot on the floor, "but not from you, Kyle."

For once in his life, Kyle chose to openly defy his mother instead of capitulating, and before he could really give it much thought, he was streaking through the door and out of the cottage.

"I'm sorry!" He yelled over his shoulder, before he began to sprint toward the forest. "I'll be home soon, I promise!"

Ignoring his mother's angry shouts, Kyle ran toward the forest as his breath tore from him, sounding ragged as he plunged into the cool darkness of the trees. The rain was merely drizzling now, the moisture clinging to everything and emitting a fresh smell, weak sunlight pouring through gaps above and producing green shadows. Kyle's boots squelched in the soft earth as he followed what had to be Craig's footprints, running as fast as he could until his lungs were burning in his chest. He kept going, though, praying that he was wrong in his assumption and Craig wasn't really leaving him behind. Maybe he was just having a bad day and that's why he lashed out, or maybe the pain from his wound was souring his mood, Kyle couldn't be sure. All he knew was that he had to find him so they could reach an understanding.

Kyle reached the edge of the forest before he caught sight of Craig's dark brown cloak, his staggering gait carrying him away from the village. Instead, he bypassed it completely, heading for the gate that stood between the confines of the high walls and the great world beyond. Apprehension threaded through Kyle's blood as he watched Craig approaching the gate and after a moment's pause, he passed through, nodding to the guards who stood watch; both of them seemingly disinterested in stopping him.

He really is leaving, Kyle thought, the sudden realization like a punch to his gut. Blinking away tears, he slowed his pace as he came upon the gate as well, staring at it with slow-building fear. He'd never left the village on his own and he'd never wanted to, but he couldn't let things end this way. Firming his resolve, he nodded to the guards as well when he walked through, fully expecting his perspective to shift dramatically when he found himself standing in open, foreign country all by himself. Taking a deep breath, he looked around, taking fleeting comfort when he was met with nothing but the road stretching away through distant meadows; the mountains looming on the horizon. Catching sight of Craig once more, he saw him disappear into yet another forest, but this one appeared decidedly hostile; dark and unwelcoming.

Now he was confused, having expected to see Craig following the road instead of going into the woods. The road led to other villages and eventually the sea, but as far as he knew the forest stretched on for miles, its terrain dense and unforgiving and full of savage, wild creatures. Why would Craig have any desire to go in there? Already beginning to shake, he took a deep breath and timidly entered the forest himself, taking care to keep his distance so he wouldn't alert Craig to his presence. Overwhelming curiosity was superseding his distress now, hoping to catch a glimpse of Craig's private affairs.

Craig was hunched over as he shuffled through the overgrown path, the shadows in this forest different from the ones closer to their home. The darkness between the trees seemed to be filled with eyes and claws as Kyle stole through, the hairs on the back of his neck rising with every step; little sounds converging on his ears of things moving just out of sight. A heavy malevolence, almost like a vapor, made the air hard to breathe. Overhead, the tree cover was so thick that the grey sky was eclipsed; wayward rainfall oozing through the leaves and splattering the path before him. His entire being seemed to be rejecting his surroundings completely, his rational side beseeching him to see reason and turn back; he refused.

Almost holding his breath now, Kyle watched as Craig slipped between two trees and disappeared. With the blood rushing in his ears, Kyle walked on trembling legs until he too had passed through the trees, all at once happening upon a dark pond in a small clearing, the water so still it looked solid. Craig was standing and its edge, unmoving and head bent, his shoulders visibly shaking. After a moment, he fell to one knee, raspy breaths escaping from him as he clutched at his middle. Forgetting himself, Kyle immediately rushed forward, coming to his side and resting a hand on his shoulder.

"You need to rest," he said, gasping to see how wan Craig was, his pupils so dilated that his eyes looked black. His lips were terribly cracked, his breaths coming in watery wheezes now. It was almost like he was falling apart in front of Kyle's eyes, and there was nothing he could do about it. Wrapping an arm around Craig's shoulders, he tried to ease him onto the ground.

"You shouldn't be here," Craig snapped, weakly throwing Kyle off and shoving him away, his teeth bared. "I told you I needed some time, Kyle! Dammit, why don't you ever listen?!"

"You already know the answer to that," Kyle retorted, his patience beginning to reach its breaking-point with Craig's stubbornness. "As you so tactfully put it, I'm a transparent fool, remember?"

"This isn't the time for your nonsense," Craig said, trying to get to his feet and failing, falling to his knees again. He hung his head, planting his hands in the grass and retching. "You need to get the hell out of here, now! I mean it!"

"No, I'm not leaving you like this. I wouldn't even think of it," Kyle replied, crawling forward and trying to touch Craig's hair, wincing when he violently recoiled.

"Leave!" Craig yelled. "I don't want you here! I can't stand to look at you!"

"You don't mean that," Kyle said, shaking his head; lips trembling. "I know you don't."

"I do! Now go, before I -"

Shuddering, he finally collapsed, his body almost seeming to spasm as his eyes rolled back in his head; violent jerks making him arch off the ground.

"Craig!" Kyle sobbed, going to him and attempting to steady the writhing boy, his eyes falling on his stomach and widening at the seeping bloodstain staining his tunic. "Oh, dear God," he murmured, covering his mouth in horror. "Craig, what -"

"Please go home, I'm begging you," Craig moaned, finally beginning to still, his eyes darting around and making him look like a terrified horse. "I'm trying to save you, Kyle; you need to listen to me!"

"Hush," Kyle said, taking Craig's head into his lap and softly stroking his hair, everything turning to a watercolor mess as his eyes filled with tears. He could feel Craig shaking like a wounded animal as he tried to sooth him, feeling horribly lost as to how he could help his suffering. "Just be still, alright? I've got you."

"You don't understand," Craig said, turning his head and hiding his face. After a moment, Kyle was astounded when he heard him beginning to sob, unable to remember the last time he'd seen his stepbrother cry; it had been years. "I'm just trying to protect you, but you won't let me!"

"Protect me from what?" Kyle asked, helplessly. "You're the one who's suffering, Craig. Let me take care of you for once."

"You're always taking care of me." Clutching at Kyle's tunic, he continued to hide his face.

"Shh," Kyle said, trying desperately to think of something that would distract Craig from his pain. Remembering the unicorn he'd tucked in his pocket, he drew it out and held it up. "We need to get home so you can help me put my collection to rights."

"Home," Craig gasped out, curling into himself as another convulsion shook his body. Taking a hold of Kyle's hand, he lethargically brought it to his face, kissing it softly and making Kyle's face flame with a sudden flush, pure pleasure seeping through him at the unexpected gesture. "You're the only home I need."

Almost melting, Kyle nearly shivered at the feeling of having Craig press his lips against his knuckles, bending forward so he could try to look into his eyes.

"Such whimsy," he murmured, locking gazes with Craig and smiling softly. "Who's the sentimental one now, hmm?"

Instead of answering, Craig tiredly nuzzled into Kyle's lap, beads of sweat gathering on his brow as he slackened. Becoming horribly still, the only thing that assured Kyle that he was still alive were the shallow breaths rattling between his lips.

"Just hold on," Kyle sobbed, holding him close and burying his face in Craig's hair. "Please, Craig, just hold on, okay? I'll think of something, I'll -"

Without warning, his words were stolen from him when a billowing inferno engulfed the clearing, bringing with it the smoldering scent of brimstone. Still clutching at Craig, Kyle tried to shield him as best he could while recoiling from the flames burning, his eyes deluged with a brightness that nearly stole his sight. Whimpering, he bent over Craig again, shutting his eyes tightly until he could feel the fire receding, leaving a horrible, pregnant silence in its wake. Pressing his cheek to Craig's, he managed to find the strength to rise, having to blink several times to clear his eyes, spots of light dancing before his vision as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

A heavy presence made his blood run cold as he looked around frantically, and after a moment his eyes fell on a stranger standing in the middle of the pond, seemingly weightless as he rested on the water. He was dressed in a dark cloak and had pale skin, his hair black as crow's wings. Two fires smoldered in the plane of his face but Kyle quickly realized they were his eyes, red and pulsing like twin heartbeats. Like the forest surrounding him, his entire being seemed to reject the stranger outright, and involuntarily he began to shake like a leaf, nausea building in his stomach and climbing up his throat.

"W-who are you?" He asked, wrapping his arms tighter around Craig. "What do you want?"

"Only what I've been promised," the man replied, his jagged voice almost making Kyle want to scream. It seemed to crawl into his brain, its discordant quality simultaneously lulling and reviling him in equal measures. A strange pain coursed through him as the man appraised him, a deep throb settling in the bones of his back and making him cry out. A haze settled over his brain as the man began to walk toward him, his boots passing over the water of the pond but not disturbing it in the slightest.

"S-stay away," Kyle gasped, trying to draw back but unwilling to relinquish his hold on Craig. With every step the man took toward him, the pain in his back increased until he could hardly stand it, his insides clenching. "Please, we have nothing for you...we need to get home. My brother is sick, can't you see that?"

Stopping before him, the man didn't answer his question. Rather, he knelt before Kyle and took a hold of his chin, his touch surprisingly gentle as he turned his face from side to side, his eyes sparking like coals. Appearing nearly euphoric, he almost sighed when he spoke next.

"I couldn't have asked for a more perfect sacrifice," he said, brushing a thumb over Kyle's bottom lip. He tried to jerk back but the man held him fast, making him whimper. "Little fox, do you know how beautiful you are?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kyle said, his voice watery as he darted his eyes away, too afraid to meet the man's gaze directly. "L-let me go if you know what's good for you."

"Ah, there's fire in thee," the man purred, continuing to stroke Kyle's lip, sounding very pleased, even amused. "I can't tell you how much that pleases me."

"I don't care if you're pleased or not!" Kyle snapped, pulling back with a snarl on his face. The man laughed, attempting to take a hold of his face again, but this time Kyle snapped his teeth at him, nearly catching his finger in the process. "Don't touch me again! Get away!"

"Ah, a fox that likes to bite, even better," the stranger smiled, clenching his fingers in Kyle's hair and yanking his head up, forcing him to meet his gaze. "I'd advise you not to try that again, though, unless you'd like to lose those pretty teeth of yours."

"Y-you're bluffing," Kyle said, fighting against the man's hold but failing abysmally. Fear was overtaking him now, almost turning his bones to water. Frantically, Kyle tried to rouse Craig, who was still lying in his lap, motionless. "Craig, wake up, please!"

The man laughed, pulling Kyle suddenly until he fell against his chest, the scents of blood and something sweet lingering on his clothing. He gagged, trying to push away. Nearly becoming undone with terror, he felt the man opening his cloak and he was being drawn inside, his arm wrapping around him and sealing him to his side. Becoming frantic, he started to thrash against him, his eyes stealing to Craig as he screamed for help.

"There, there," the man soothed him, stroking Kyle's nape. "Calm yourself. I'm only settling a debt and collecting what I'm owed."

"What are you talking about?! Nothing you're saying makes any sense!" Sobbing now, Kyle reached toward Craig, who was still lying unconscious on the banks of the pond. "Craig, please! Help me!"

"Oh, he won't wake for quite a while, but he'll be put to rights soon enough. A deal is a deal, after all." Resting his cheek against Kyle's hair, the man continued to languidly caress his neck. "Are you ready to go, little one? We've a long journey ahead of us."

Now the pain in his back was so awful that Kyle's knees buckled, but he managed to find the wherewithal to fight, jabbing his hand upward and straight into the man's throat, making him loosen his grip long enough for him to break away. Falling onto the grass, he started to scramble away, his hands gripping at the grass as he crawled to Craig, taking a hold of him.

"Craig," he cried, pressing his forehead against his, his tears splashing on his cheek. Collapsing into his misery, all he could do was chant his name as he pleaded with him to wake up, praying for deliverance.

"Poor child," the man breathed, his voice becoming silky. Advancing on Kyle, he didn't touch him but he exuded an oppressive energy, making him shake with unbridled fear. "Sleep now, it will ease thy suffering."

"Stop, just stop," Kyle moaned, resting his cheek against Craig's steadily beating heart and slowly shutting his eyes, wishing them both far away. Unbidden, visions of the night before came to him as he felt the man rest his hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently. He could see the stars trembling in the heavens and he could feel the way Craig had pulled him close, protecting him even in his sleep. More than anything, he wanted to feel Craig's arms wrapped around him as he carried him home in the rain, his body pressed close to his chest.

"Craig," he whispered, a strange weariness stealing over him as his mind dissolved into darkness. "Craig, I love you..."

"I've always loved you."


End file.
